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LIBRARY 

OF   THE 

Theological   Seminary, 
BV    4501    .K457 
Kennedy,    John,    1813-1900. 
(   Work  and   conflict;    or.    The 
divine    life    in   its   progresq 


lioohy 


WORK  AND  CONFLICT, 


THE  DIVINE  LIFE  IN  ITS  PROGRESS. 


A  BOOK  OF  FACTS  AND   HISTORIES. 


XY   THE 

Key.    JOHN    KENNEDY,   M.  A., 

F.R.G.S. 


REVISED   BY   THE    EDITOR   OF   THE   BOARD. 


"  This  one  thing  I  do,  forgetting  those  things  which  are  behind,  and 
reaching  forth  unto  those  things  which  are  before,  I  press  toward  the  mark 
for  the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus." 

The  Apostle  Paul. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
PRESBYTEKIAN  BOAED  OF  PUBLICATION, 

No.  821  Chestnut  Street. 


PREFACE 


"  The  grace  of  God  in  tte  heart  of  man  is  a  tender 
plant  in  a  strange,  unkindly  soil,  and,  therefore,  can- 
not well  prosper  and  grow  without  much  care  and 
pains,  and  that  of  a  skilful  hand."  These  are  the 
opening  words  of  Archbishop  Leighton^s  "  Commen- 
tary on  the  First  Epistle  of  Peter  ;'^  and  the  principle 
which  they  contain  lies  at  the  foundation  of  much 
that  we  have  to  say  of  the  Christian's  ''  Work  and 
Conflict."  In  a  former  volume  we  treated  of  "  The 
Divine  Life,"  with  reference,  especially,  to  its  nature, 
and  to  the  manner  and  means  of  its  origination  in  the 
human  soul.  But  the  divine  life  once  originated, 
what  of  its  progress  and  permanence  ?  Are  these  to 
be  left  to  a  sort  of  spiritual  chance,  untended  and  un- 
cared  for  ?  Are  they  secured  by  the  spontaneous 
energy  of  the  inward  life  itself  ?  Or  are  they  to  be 
the  objects  of  deliberate  painstaking  and  culture? 
With  Archbishop  Leighton  our  belief  is,  that  inward 
religion  "  cannot  well  prosper  and  grow  without  much 

care  and  pains."     His  great  Master  and  ours  and  the 

3 


4  PREFACE. 

chiefest  servants  of  the  Master  have  all  taught  the 
same  lesson  :  "  Work  out  your  own  salvation  with  fear 
and  trembling.  For  it  is  God  which  worketh  in  you 
both  to  will  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure :"  "  Giving 
all  diligence,  add  to  your  faith  virtue."  The  new  birth 
may  be  a  sudden  work;  the  quickening  of  the  soul 
into  spiritual  life  may  be  instantaneous ;  but  its  onward 
course,  from  the  weakness  of  infancy  to  the  strength 
of  manhood,  is  effected  by  slow  degrees,  through  many 
an  effort  and  many  a  struggle.  And  God  is  not  pleased 
to  supersede  the  necessity  of  effort  and  struggle,  by 
enabling  us  to  leap  at  a  bound  out  of  our  swaddling 
clothes,  and  gird  ourselves  with  the  attributes  of  per- 
fect men  in  Christ  Jesus.  The  usual  method  of  divine 
grace  is,  by  a  gradual  process,  to  discipline  and  educate 
the  heart  out  of  its  weaknesses  and  errors. 

But  there  must  be  the  "  skilful  hand'*  as  well  as 
"  care  and  pains"  in  the  culture  of  the  divine  life. 
True  religion  in  the  heart  of  man  may  be  "  a  tender 
plant  in  a  strange  unkindly  soil,"  but  it  must  not  be 
treated  like  an  exotic,  and  sheltered  in  a  hot-house  to 
protect  it  from  unkindly  blasts.  Let  it  acquire  a 
hardier  character,  and  learn  to  encounter  the  most 
hostile  influences.  Confined  to  the  closet  or  the  cloister, 
it  can  never  be  other  than  sickly :  it  will  find  health 
and  vigour  in  an  out-of-door  existence,  amidst  the  com- 
mon pursuits  and  duties  of  human  life.  The  holy 
Samuel  Rutherford  has  given  us  the  counterpart  of 
Leighton's  saying: — "Grace  is  a  strange  plant,  it  grows 


PREFACE.  5 

best  on  the  weather-side  of  the  hill/^  This  is  a  first 
principle  in  the  "skilfur^  cultivation  of  this  tender 
plant,  and  it  is  one  of  many  which  it  is  our  endeavour 
in  the  following  pages  to  elicit  from  the  teachings  of 
Holy  Scripture,  and  to  illustrate  and  enforce  by  the 
example  of  holy  men. 

In  religion  all  things  are  possible  through  the  divine 
help.  And  with  that  help  so  freely  promised,  so  faith- 
fully rendered,  the  Christian  should  be  like  the  tree 
which  is  "  planted  by  the  rivers  of  water,"  "  not  stinted 
and  dwarfish ;  not  smitten  with  rust  and  eaten  with 
the  worm,  but  sound  alike  in  the  body,  the  blossom, 
and  the  fruit;  not  crooked,  knotted,  and  unsymmetri- 
cal,  but  free,  expansive,  and  proportional."  Wherever 
he  goes,  the  world  should  be  able  to  recognize  his  char- 
acter without  the  requisite  of  a  formal  proclamation. 
The  image  of  Christ  should  be  so  impressed  upon  his 
whole  life,  as  to  render  him  an  "  epistle,  known  and 
read  of  all  men."  It  has  been  said,  that  two-thirds  of 
the  really  good  earnest  people  we  meet,  travel  along 
the  high  road  of  duty,  like  horses  badly  broken  in; 
they  advance,  but  they  are  always  making  little  efforts 
to  wander  to  the  right  hand  or  to  the  left,  and  so  re- 
quiring the  whip  and  bridle.  But  the  commands  and 
promises  of  the  gospel  would  lead  us  to  anticipate  far 
other  results.  There  is  ample  provision  made  in  the 
motives  with  which  the  cross  of  Christ  inspires  true 
believers,  and  in  the  grace  which  the  mediation  of 
Christ  brings  within  their  reach,  to  enable  them  to 
1* 


6  PREFACE. 

become  '^  partakers  of  the  divine  nature,"  and  to 
''  walk  in  the  Spirit/'  Redeemed  as  they  are  by  the 
blood  of  the  Lord  Jesus  is  it  too  much  to  expect  of 
them  that  they  will  aim  after  that  high  and  spiritual 
condition  in  which,  to  use  the  words  of  John  Howe, 
"  the  soul  shall  have  no  other  notion  of  itself  than  o'f 
an  everlasting  sacrifice,  always  ascending  to  God  in  its 
own  flames  V 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTION. 

PAGK 

Christ  the  perfect  man,  the  Christian's  Exemplar— Human 
nature  j  pure,  fallen,  restored — One  perfect  man — The 
ideal  of  the  Christian  life — DiflSculties  :  how  lessened ; 
subject  to  temptation ;  to  suffering — His  life  natural, 
though  supernatural 11 


|arl  Smt—moxh^ 

CHAP.  L— THE  SOUL'S  WORK. 

Requisites  to  its  successful  prosecution — Its  proper  end — Simi- 
litude by  Dr.  Payson — By  Samuel  Pearce — The  grand 
principle  of  Christ's  life— Of  the  Christian's— Exaggera- 
tion of  it  by  Madame  Guyon — The  apostle  John — Paul — 
Brainerd — Light — Love — Examples  of  harmonious  good- 
ness—  Moses  —  Paul  —  John  Howe  —  Henry  Martyn  — 
Brainerd  and  Fletcher  of  Madeley  contrasted — The  patri- 
archs constitutionally  different — The  glory  of  Christ — 
Practical  dangers— The  neglect  of  little  things— Perfection 
made  up  of  trifles — How  Christian  love  is  to  be  cultivated 
— By  the  knowledge  and  contemplation  of  the  Divine 
character — The  necessity  of  reconciliation — Permanent 
application  of  first  principles — Edward  Bickersteth  and 
Dr.  Chalmers — Specific  means  of  spiritual  improvement — 
Written  covenants  —  Resolutions  —  Self-examination  — 
Private  journals — Means  of  Christ's  progress — Prayer — 
Holy  Scripture — Havelock — Gardiner — Henry  Martyn — 
Sarah  Martin — Chalmers — George  Wagner — Sabbath  ordi- 
nances— John  Wesley  and  the  Mystics — Christ  and  ex- 
ternal ordinances ■ 23 

7 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAP.  IL— THE  WORLD'S  WORK. 

PAOK 

Is  it  compatible  with  the  divine  life  ? — Natural  similitudes — 
Testimony  of  Scripture — Monasticism — Christ's  infancy — 
True  idea  of  Christ's  private  human  life — Did  he  work 
with  his  own  hands  ? — Significance  of  the  occasion  of  his 
first  miracle — Alleged  asceticism  of  John  the  Baptist — 
Apostolic  forewarnings — Conclusions — Enoch — the  patri- 
archs and  their  discipline — Daniel — Wilberforce — The 
profession  of  arms — Hedley  Vicars — General  Havelock — 
Common  soldiery — Toil  and  care  a  spiritual  discipline — 
Extracts  from  Caird  and  Whewell 97 

CHAP.  III.-SOCIAL  WORK. 

No  man  liveth  to  himself — What  shall  I  do  ? — Christian 
women — Ancient  Rome — A  day  in  the  life  of  Christ — 
Hannah  More  — Sir  Edward  Parry— Havelock — Sarah 
Martin  —  Vanderkemp  —  Intercessory  prayer  —  George 
Wagner — Little  acts — Tertius — Baruch — The  one  talent — 
A  single  hymn — Curse  ye  Meroz — Montgomery's  "  Way- 
faring Man" 141 


lart  ^ttonb — dl^onflid. 


CHAP.  L— CONFLICT  WITH  SIN. 

The  language  of  war — Heathen  speculations — The  devil — Two 
extremes — The  temptation  of  Christ — Can  we  distinguish 
the  assaults  of  Satan  ? — Luther,  Bunyan,  Job,  Peter — No 
compromise — Conflict  with  inward  sin — Asceticism  no 
cure — Madame  Guyon — Death  to  sin — Colonel  Gardiner — 
Dr.  Payson,  Pearce,  Charles  Simeon,  Chalmers,  Sarah 
Martin,  Bunyan — 0  wretched  man  ! — Means  of  deliverance 
— The  spider  and  the  toad — Cultivation  of  the  positive 
virtues  —  Self-denial—  Andrew  Fuller  —  The  untenanted 
heart — Besetting  sins — Charles  Simeon — Obsta  principiis 
— A  parable — Little  sins — Fasting  and  prayer — Payson — 
Simeon — Union  of  humiliation  and  cheerfulness — The 
Christian  life  a  battle  and  a  hymn 181 


CONTENTS.  9 

CHAP.    II.  —  CONFLICT  WITH   DESPONDENCY  AND 
DOUBT. 

PAOB 

Ebb  and  flow  of  feeling — Brainerd — Payson — Simeon — How 
account  for  such  changes — Emotion  not  a  test  of  spiritual 
condition — Melancholy  temperament— Payson — The  rela- 
tions of  mind  and  body — Cowper — Extract  from  Douglas 
of  Cavers — Simeon — Distinct  causes  of  despondency — 
Consciousness  of  sin — Ignorance,  misapprehension,  or  for- 
getfulness  of  truth — Hezekiah — Christian  and  Hopeful  in 
the  castle  of  Giant  Despair — The  neglect  of  duty — Andrew 
Fuller  and  his  church — Personal  afflictions — Job — Disor- 
ders and  irregularities  of  the  world — Positive  evidences  of 
the  Divine  character — Shall  we  add  the  sovereign  hiding  of 
God's  countenance  ? — Statements  by  Dr.  Wardlaw — Doubt 
— Robert  Hall — James  H.  Evans — Robert  Alfred  Vaughan, 
Bunyan,  Payson,  Halyburton — True  explanation — Rest- 
ing-places provided  by  the  Bible — A  young  Brahman — Ex- 
tract from  Caird — James  A.  Thomson 231 

CHAP.  III.— CONFLICT  WITH  SUFFERING  AND 
DEATH. 

Jesus  Christ  a  man  of  sorrows — Their  variety  and  intenseness 
—Stoicism — Socrates — Lessons  from  Christ — Christ's  reli- 
gion a  religion  of  joy — The  proto-martyr  Stephen — Paul  as 
a  suflFerer — Common  principles — The  early  church — Pliny 
the  Younger — Patrick  Hamilton,  Madame  Guyon — Martyrs 
in  Madagascar — In  India — The  ordinary  afflictions  of  life — 
Bereavements — Aaron,  Eli,  Job — Captain  Allen  Gardiner, 
Richard  Williams — No  man  dieth  to  himself — The  principle 
of  Scripture  Biography — Details  of  the  death  of  Stephen 
and  of  Christ — Conflicts  of  Thomas  Ward — Triumph  of 
Dr.  Payson — The  one  Foundation — Conclusion 319 


INTRODUCTION. 

CHRIST   THE   PERFECT   MAN — THE   CHRISTIAN'S 
EXEMPLAR. 

When  we  stand  on  the  margin  of  an  unruffled  lake, 
the  beauties  which  surround  us  are  reflected  from  its 
placid  bosom,  as  from  a  polished  mirror.  The  green 
sward,  the  fairy  flower,  the  majestic  tree,  the  rock  and 
the  mountain,  the  sun  and  the  golden  beams  which 
illumine  heaven,  are  all  thrown  back  on  us  smilingly. 
And  as  we  gaze  into  the  waters  we  see  in  their  depths 
a  world  brighter  and  more  beautiful  than  the  real 
world  around  us — 

"  As  if  there  lay  beneath  the  wave, 
Secure  from  trouble,  toil,  and  care, 
A  world  than  earthly  world  more  fair." 

Such  was  human  nature,  when,  as  formed  by  the 
divine  hand  and  inspired  by  the  divine  breath,  it  re- 
flected, purely  and  unbrokenly,  all  the  excellences  and 
beauties  of  the  divine  image.  But  while  looking  on  the 
smooth  surface  of  the  lake,  a  storm  arises,  the  waters  are 
troubled,  and  wave  lashes  wave  in  its  fury.  Where  is 
now  the  liquid  landscape,  the  reflection  of  all  the  glory 
and  beauty  and  majesty  of  the  scene  around  ?  Y\e 
gaze,  but  it  is  not.  Not  one  fragment  of  it  remains. 
The  agitated  bosom  of  the  waters  knows  nothing  of 

(11) 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

what  it  had  but  an  hour  before  exhibited  so  truly  and 
brightly.  Such  is  human  nature  when  subjected  to 
the  disturbing  and  deranging  forces  of  sin.  It  is  no 
longer  a  reflection  of  the  beauty  and  glory  of  the 
divine  image.  We  still  stand  on  the  margin  of  the 
lake.  An  unseen  power  allays  the  storm.  The  winds 
cease,  but  there  is  not  a  perfect  calm.  The  waves 
subside,  but  the  waters  are  partially  ruffled.  And  as 
we  gaze  we  observe  the  landscape  again  forming  itself 
on  the  surface.  But  not  as  before.  It  is  now  thrown 
back  upon  us  in  fragments.  Trees  and  rocks  are 
incongruously  mixed.  One  object  is  brightly  reflected 
by  the  surface  of  the  ripple  which  is  now  passing 
before  us,  and  another  by  the  surface  of  the  next.  But 
they  do  not  appear  in  their  natural  relation,  and  more 
than  half  their  beauty  is  thereby  lost.  We  see  every 
thing  in  parts  and  pieces,  nothing  in  all  its  beauty ; 
and  many  things  so  confusedly,  that  we  can  scarcely 
recognize  them.  Such  is  human  nature  under  the 
operation  of  the  gospel.  The  disturbing  force  of  sin 
has  been  subdued;  and  the  image  of  God  is  again 
reflected  from  living  man.  But,  alas  !  it  is  commonly 
in  most  fragmentary  forms.  Disjointed  and  broken 
pieces,  rather  than  a  uniform  and  consistent  whole, 
attest  the  restoration  of  the  image  of  God  to  the  soul 
of  man. 

Once,  however,  in  the  world's  history,  but  only  once, 
there  appeared  a  perfect  Man.  And  it  is  instructive 
to  know  that  he  lived  not  in  the  peaceful  solitude  of 
deserts,  but  in  daily  conflict,  for  three-and-thirty  years, 
with  the  wants,  and  sins,  and  sorrows  of  an  evil  world. 
He  was  "  brought  into  relation  with  every  class  and 
character,  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  learned  and 
ignorant,  soldier  and  priest,  lawyer  and  rabbi,  prince 


ONE    PERFECT    MAN.  13 

and  peasant,  Pharisee  and  Sadducee,  the  devotee  of 
the  temple,  the  student  of  the  schools,  and  the  money- 
changer of  the  market- place."  And,  contemplated  in 
all  these  relations,  "  the  universal  consent  is  that  there 
is  One  who  is  absolutely  superior  to  circumstances — 
One  on  whose  serene  and  lofty  spirit  the  changes  that 
aflFect  sublunary  interests  can  produce  no  permanent 
or  injurious  impressions — One  for  whom  his  friends 
never  had  to  make  an  apology,  for  whom  the  impartial 
critic  needs  not  to  demand  any  forbearance,  in  whom 
the  keenest  sighted  of  his  enemies  can  find  no  fault — 
One  whom  no  transient  weakness  from  within,  no 
cunning  temptation  from  without,  could  divert  for  a 
single  moment  from  his  onward  career  of  virtue, 
beneficence,  and  purity — One,  in  short,  who,  tried  by 
the  loftiest  standards  of  spiritual  excellence,  must  be 
pronounced,  in  the  language  of  a  disciple  who  had  seen 
as  much  of  him  as  any  man  whilst  he  was  on  earth, 
^without  blemish  and  without  spot/"* 

Not  only  was  it  the  impression  of  others  that  Jesus 
of  Nazareth  was  sinless,  but  it  was  his  own  conscious- 
ness as  well.  He  cannot  be  suspected  of  self-ignorance, 
for  his  knowledge  was  boundless;  or  of  pride,  for  lowli- 
ness was  one  of  the  most  marked  traits  in  his  character; 
yet  he  never  confessed  sin.  *'  He  never  once  reproached 
himself,  or  regretted  any  thing  he  had  ever  done  or 
said.  He  never  uttered  a  word  to  indicate  that  he  had 
ever  taken  a  wrong  step,  or  neglected  a  single  oppor- 
tunity; or  that  any  thing  conld  have  been  done  or  said 
more  or  better  than  had  been  done  or  said.  He  was 
always  calmly,  perfectly  conscious  of  faultlessness.  *1 
do  always  those  things  which  please  the  Father.' " 
All  other  good  men  have  been   forward    to   confess 

*  Ilenry  Rogers :  "  Defence  of  the  Eclipse  of  Faith." 
2 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

themselves  sinners;  and  nothing  gives  us  so  deep  a 
conviction  of  their  true  godliness  as  the  ingenuous 
and  hearty  acknowledgement  of  sin.  In  the  case  of 
David,  for  example,  there  is  nothing  he  ever  did  or 
wrote  that  satisfies  us  that  the  root  of  true  holiness 
was  in  him  so  much  as  the  fifty-first  Psalm.  This 
beautiful  ode,  written  on  occasion  of  his  repentance 
of  the  greatest  sins  of  his  life,  breathes  not  the  spirit 
of  a  criminal  trembling  at  the  thought  of  coming  judg- 
ment, but  of  a  true  penitent  mourning  ingenuously 
that  he  has  ofi'ended  his  God  and  Father.  If  we  find 
in  it  a  cry  of  agony  for  the  remission  of  guilt,  we  find 
in  it  a  still  more  piercing  cry  for  the  grace  that  should 
sanctify.  "  Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  0  God ;  and 
renew  a  right  spirit  within  me."  And  we  rise  from 
the  perusal  of  these  confessions  and  prayers  with  the 
impression  that  only  a  man  of  God  could  cherish  such 
sentiments  and  utter  such  cries.  We  expect  the  same 
sentiments  to  enter  substantially  into  the  experience 
of  every  man  of  God;  while  nothing  would  shake  our 
confidence  in  a  man's  piety  so  conclusively  as  his  dis- 
avowal of  all  feelings  akin  to  those  that  are  expressed 
in  the  fifty-first  Psalm.  And  yet  Jesus  Christ  was  a 
stranger  to  them.  More  devout  than  any  other  man, 
more  humble  than  any  other  man,  he  was  still  uncon- 
scious of  sin.  And  the  fact  can  be  accounted  for  only 
on  the  supposition  that  he  was  sinless. 

Jesus  Christ  was  thus  "  without  blemish."  But 
he  was  more.  He  was  "  perfect  and  entire,  want- 
ing nothing."  The  completeness  of  his  character 
is  as  remarkable  as  its  faultlessness.  The  excel- 
lences of  other  good  men  usually  put  forth  their 
strength  in  one  direction,  and  are  condensed,  so  to 
speak,  in  one  grace  or  virtue ;  as  if  the  life  and  vital 


COMPLETENESS   OP   CHRIST'S   CHARACTER.        15 

energy  of  a  tree  were  to  flow  into  one  branch,  giving 
it  much  strength  and  beauty,  but  leaving  other 
branches  in  a  state  of  comparative  feebleness.  The 
faith  of  Abraham,  the  patience  of  Job,  the  zeal  of 
Elijah,  are  examples.  Not  that  these  graces  stood 
alone;  for  all  true  excellence  springs  from  one  root; 
and  where  this  root  exists  it  will  produce  many 
branches  and  many  fruits  of  true  goodness.  But  still 
human  nature  in  its  best  state,  that  is,  regenerated 
by  the  grace  of  God,  ordinarily  puts  forth  its  greatest 
strength  in  some  one  or  two  directions.  The  character 
of  Jesus  Christ  stands  out  in  marked  contrast  to  this 
partial  and  incomplete  development  of  the  good  in 
man.  "  It  is  not  the  presence  of  one  or  two  great 
qualities  in  his  character  that  commands  our  reverence; 
it  is  the  extraordinary  combination  of  excellences 
which  it  displays  that  constitutes  its  peculiar  attraction. 
Meekness  and  majesty — firmness  and  gentleness — • 
zeal  and  prudence — composure  and  warmth — patience 
and  sensibility — submission  and  dignity — sublime 
sanctity  and  tender  sympathy — piety  that  rose  to  the 
loftiest  devotion,  and  benevolence  that  could  stoop  to 
the  meanest  sufferer — intense  abhorrence  of  sin,  and 
profound  compassion  for  the  sinner,  mingle  their  varied 
rays  in  the  tissue  of  his  character,  and  produce  a 
combination  of  virtues  such  as  the  world  never  saw 
besides,  and  such  as  the  most  sanguine  enthusiasm 
never  ventured  to  anticipate."*  When  he  stood  at 
the  bar  of  the  high  priest  and  of  Pilate,  he  never  lost 
his  dignity,  never  parted  with  his  composure.  Majestic 
amid  reproaches,  calm  under  injuries,  with  the  port  of 
a  sovereign  and  the  serenity  of  a  martyr,  he  met  every 
assault  of  his  enemies  without  flinching,  and  without 

*  Dr.  W.  L.  Alexander:  "Christ  and  Christianity. 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

retaliation,  and  united  with  a  fortitude  that  astonished 
the  stern  and  haughty  Roman — a  meekness  and  tender- 
ness that  had  all  but  melted  that  iron  heart.  *'  View 
him  at  any  stage  of  his  earthly  career,  and  under  any 
of  the  circumstances  in  which  the  evangelists  have 
represented  him,  and  we  see  the  same  completeness 
of  character,  the  same  unparalleled  combination  of 
excellences,  the  existence  of  any  one  of  which  in  an 
ordinary  mortal,  in  the  degree  in  which  they  all  appear 
in  Christ,  would  draw  towards  him  the  admiration  of 
all  who  knew  him."  Such  was  Jesus  Christ,  without 
fault,  without  defect.  But  he  stands  absolutely  alone, 
A  second  like  him  is  not  to  be  found. 

The  appearance  of  one,  and  of  only  one  perfect  man, 
amid  all  the  generations  that  have  peopled  the  earth 
these  six  thousand  years,  is  a  great  mystery,  of  which 
no  other  explanation  is  adequate  but  that  which  is 
furnished  by  the  evangelical  record.  So  far  from  being 
anomalous,  the  story  of  his  miraculous  birth  is  alto- 
gether natural.  Any  thing  else  would  not  have  been 
in  keeping  with  the  history  of  the  one  sinless  man. 
"  His  virgin  mother  is  a  beautiful  and  simple  reality. 
It  would  have  been  incongruous,  even  offensive,  had 
Tie  not  been  thus  physically  separated  from  mankind.'' 

This  conclusion  will  carry  us  a  step  further.  We 
go  out  among  mankind  to  find,  in  practice,  what  is 
just  and  true  and  good;  and  we  find  here  a  fragment 
and  there  a  fragment  of  great  beauty,  and  we  try  to 
put  all  the  fragments  together  in  their  proper  place 
and  order,  to  form  a  consistent  whole ;  till  at  last 
we  come  to  One  in  whom  virtue  and  goodness  are  not 
fragmentary,  but  entire,  wanting  nothing  to  form  the 
most  perfect  model  of  human  excellence.  But  we 
cannot  think  that  it  was  for  this  end  alone,  or  chiefly, 


CHRIST    OUR   EXAMrLE.  17 

that  the  course  of  nature  was  set  aside,  and  the  Holy 
Ghost  overshadowed  the  virgin  mother  of  our  Lord. 
It  was  that  the  human  being  thus  wondrously  created 
might  be  the  visible  tabernacle  and  Shekinah  of  God 
among  men.  The  sinless  one  was  "  God  manifest  in  the 
flesh."  This  is  a  fact,  profoundly  mysterious  indeed, 
but  also  ineffably  glorious.  And  when  once  this  fact  is 
admitted,  we  are  urged  on  to  another  conclusion.  The 
end  of  the  indwelling  of  God  in  Jesus  Christ  was  not 
the  mere  revelation  of  the  being  and  character  of 
God,  but  the  redemption  of  man  by  the  great  atone- 
ment of  the  cross.  There  are  teachers  many,  and 
examples  many,  but  there  is  only  one  Saviour.  Should 
we  go  from  worthy  to  worthy  among  the  saints  of 
God,  and  ask  life  of  them,  Enoch,  and  Moses,  and 
Daniel,  and  Paul,  and  John,  will  each  reply,  "It  is  not 
in  me;  behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  that  taketh  away 
the  sin  of  the  world.  He  is  preferred  before  us ;  his 
shoes'  latchet  we  are  not  worthy  to  unloose :  he  will 
baptize  you  with  the  Holy  Ghost  and  with  fire." 

From  the  admission  of  the  sinlessness  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  we  are  thus  led  forward  through  an 
ever-widening  circle  of  truth,  till  we  have  embraced 
the  whole  gospel  of  salvation.  But  our  present  object 
is  to   set  forth   the   sinless   One  of  Nazareth  as    the 

IDEAL   AND     MODEL     OF    THE    CHRISTIAN    LIFE.       He 

is  our  Example.  Would  we  rise  to  eminence  in 
any  profession,  we  shall  study  the  best  models,  and 
find  in  one  of  them,  or  form,  by  a  combination  of 
elements  scattered  over  several,  the  ideal  of  our  future 
life ;  and  on  the  purity  and  loftiness  of  this  ideal, 
as  well  as  on  the  simplicity  and  earnestness  of  our 
endeavour  to  realize  it,  will  our  success  depend.  Our 
spiritual  ideal  is  Christ.     In  the  one  history  and  the 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

one  character,  at  once  human  and  divine,  of  Jesus 
Christ,  the  Christian  finds  the  highest  type  of  spiritual 
excellence ;  and  into  this  highest  type  it  is  the  will  of 
his  God  that  he  should  be  moulded. 

But  this  statement  may  suggest  difficulties  which 
will  prove  a  practical  hindrance  in  our  following 
Christ.  The  union  of  the  human  and  divine  natures 
in  the  person  of  our  Lord  is  a  difficulty  which  must 
ever  meet  us  in  endeavouring  to  weigh  his  conduct, 
and  estimate  his  motives  and  principles  of  action, 
according  to  the  standard  of  mankind.  Practically, 
however,  the  difficulty  is  much  lessened  by  distinctly 
remembering  that  Jesus  Christ  was  a  true  man.  How 
his  Godhead  was  united  to  or  acted  upon  his  humanity 
we  do  not  know ;  but  we  do  know  that  the  one  did 
not  destroy  the  other,  or  supersede  the  natural  working 
of  the  principles  and  faculties  proper  to  it.  And  in 
this  fo.ct  we  must  rest.  It  is  not  of  the  God,  but  of 
the  man  we  think,  when  we  strive  and  pray  that  the 
life  of  Jesus  may  be  reproduced  and  made  manifest  in 
our  mortal  flesh. 

Even  the  sinlessness  of  our  Exemplar  may  itself 
become  a  difficulty.  That  he  must  be  sinless,  in 
order  to  his  offering  an  acceptable  sacrifice  for  the 
sins  of  men,  we  feel.  That,  if  other  than  sinless,  he 
could  not  be  a  true  and  perfect  model,  we  feel  like- 
wise. But  his  very  sinlessness  seems  to  create  an 
impassable  gulf  between  him  and  us.  In  him  there 
was  neither  seed  nor  blade  nor  fruit  of  evil.  In  our 
natural  character  there  is  "no  good  thing."  He  may 
be  our  ideal,  but  how  can  we  hope  to  realize  it?  And, 
in  our  strivings  after  it,  must  we  not  tread  a  path 
which  he  never  trod,  and  pass  through  conflicts  which 
be  never  knew  ? 


"JESUS    INCREASED    IN    WISDOM."  19 

This  difficulty  will  be  removed,  in  part  at  least,  by 
remembering,  in  the  first  place,  that,  though  sinless, 
Christ's  nature  was  capable  of  progress, — spiritual  as 
well  as  physical  and  intellectual  progress.  Entire 
and  sinless  purity  may  be  but  the  basis  of  endless 
progress.  Adam  was  without  spot  as  he  came  from 
the  hands  of  God;  but  had  he  continued  holy  for  one 
hundred  years,  and  all  these  years  actively  served  his 
Maker  and  resisted  every  temptation  to  sin,  his  holi- 
ness would  have  become  brighter  and  stronger.  The 
saints  are  without  spot  when  they  enter  heaven;  but 
their  holiness  grows,  as  well  as  their  knowledge,  amid 
the  services  and  studies  of  the  heavenly  world.  Entire 
purity  does  not,  then,  exclude  the  idea  of  progress. 
And  as  to  Christ,  the  fact  is  certain.  "  The  child  grew, 
and  waxed  strong  in  spirit,  filled  with  wisdom  :  and  the 
grace  of  God  was  upon  him. — Jesus  increased  in  wis- 
dom and  stature,  and  in  favour  with  God  and  man."* 

Christ's  growth  "  in  spirit"  was,  indeed,  in  some 
important  respects  diflPerent  from  ours.  His  progress 
was  an  onward  and  upward  growth  from  a  sinless 
root,  perfect  and  pure  at  every  stage,  never  needing 
correction  or  change,  uninterrupted,  unmarred,  for 
one  moment  or  in  one  instance,  by  inward  disease 
or  outward  injury.  Our  true  progress  begins  by  a 
radical  change  of  the  original  bent  and  bias  of  the 
soul ;  and  every  subsequent  attainment  costs  an  efibrt 
and  a  struggle,  advancement  being  perpetually  checked 
by  inward  corruption  or  outward  temptation,  and  all 
the  attainments  actually  made  exhibiting  signs  of 
weakness  or  defect. 

The  difficulty  created  by  this  difi'erence  between 
the  great  Exemplar  and  his  followers  will   be  mate- 

*  Luke  ii.  40,  52. 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

rially  lessened  by  remembering,  in  the  second  place, 
that,  though  sinless,  he  was  subjected  to  temptation. 
"  He  was  tempted  like  as  we  are."  Let  it  not  be 
supposed  that  temptation  was  nothing  to  him,  because 
he  was  all  pure.  Our  first  parents  were  sinless  when 
they  were  first  tempted;  and  yet  they  yielded  and  fell. 
The  temptation  of  the  second  Adam  was  as  deep  and 
real,  but  he  yielded  not :  he  was  more  than  a  con- 
queror. His  likeness  to  us,  or  ours  to  him,  in  the 
matter  of  temptation,  will  be  spoken  of  in  another 
place.  At  present  we  only  remark  the  fact,  that  he 
was  tempted;  that  his  temptation  was  not  shadowy, 
but  real ;  that,  though  he  "  did  no  sin,"  he  had  to  fight 
with  sin,  and  overcame  it  only  by  the  earnest  use  of 
the  sword  of  the  Spirit. 

There  is  another  consideration  which  lessens  the 
distance  between  Christ's  experience  and  ours. 
Though  sinless,  he  was  a  sufferer.  The  mystery  of  a 
sinless  sufferer  can  be  explained  only  on  the  assump- 
tion that  he  suffered  for  others,  the  just  for  the 
unjust.  His  condition  of  sufi'ering  we  look  at  now, 
however,  only  in  relation  to  his  being  the  ideal  and 
model  of  our  Christian  life.  His  sufferings  demanded 
the  exercise  of  those  same  virtues  and  graces  which 
are  required  by  ours.  And  how  gloriously  they  were 
exhibited  is  known  to  the  most  superficial  reader  of  his 
history. 

Still  it  may  be  said  that  the  life  and  doings  of  Jesus 
Christ  were,  to  so  large  an  extent,  supernatural  as  to 
remove  them  out  of  the  circle  in  which  we  move  and 
have  our  being.  He  entered  the  world  by  a  miracle, 
and  left  it  by  a  miracle.  If  for  thirty  years  he  lived 
without  miracle,  that  portion  of  his  life  is  unrecorded. 
For  those  three  years  and  a  half  during  which  we  are 


NATURAL   AND    SUPERNATURAL.  21 

permitted  to  trace  his  footsteps,  he  may  be  said  to 
have  lived  in  the  supernatural.  In  the  house  of  feast- 
ing and  in  the  house  of  mourning,  on  the  highway 
and  in  the  temple,  on  the  sea  and  on  the  mountain, 
both  visible  nature  and  unseen  spirits  were  subject  to 
his  control ;  and  his  mighty  powers  were  put  forth  on 
the  right  hand  and  on  the  left.  All  this  is  true.  But 
it  is  not  true  that  all  this  renders  his  life  so  unlike 
ours  that  it  cannot  be  our  model.  No  character  can 
stand  farther  removed  than  that  of  Jesus  Christ  from 
that  of  the  mere  wonder-worker,  who  dwells  in  a 
region  foreign  to  our  own,  and  unapproachable  to  our 
spirits.  His  life  is  that  of  a  true  man.  And,  amid  all 
his  miracles,  the  man's  heart  shows  itself  so  constantly, 
that  we  can  forget  the  supernatural  in  the  perfect 
naturalness  of  all  the  moral  elements  and  principles 
of  his  character.  To  say  nothing  of  those  utterances 
and  doings  that  were  not  associated  with  supernatural 
signs,  his  very  miracles  have  thus  "  left  us  an  example 
that  we  should  follow  his  steps."  If  we  cannot  say 
to  the  widowed  mother's  only  son,  "Arise,"  we  can 
stand  by  the  bier,  and  bear  the  widow's  sorrows.  If 
we  cannot  say  to  the  buried  Lazarus,  "  Come  forth," 
we  can  weep  with  Mary  and  Martha,  and  rejoice,  too, 
that  their  brother  shall  rise  again  at  the  last  day.  If 
we  cannot  take  five  loaves,  and  with  them  feed  five 
thousand  hungry  men,  we  can  at  least  deal  of  our  own 
bread  to  the  hungry,  and  befriend  the  outcast  and  the 
naked.  If  it  cannot  now  be  said,  in  reference  to  our 
ministration,  "  The  blind  receive  their  sight,  the  lame 
walk,  and  the  lepers  are  cleansed,"  we  may  so  follow 
Christ  as  to  be  able  to  appropriate  the  words  of  Job, 
"  The  blessing  of  him  that  was  ready  to  perish  came 
upon  me  :  and  I  caused  the  widow's  heart  to  sing  for 


22  INTRODUCTION. 

joy. — I  was  eyes  to  the  blind,  and  feet  was  I  to  the 
lame.  I  was  a  father  to  the  poor  :  and  the  cause  which 
I  knew  not  I  searched  out."* 

Thus  the  example  of  Christ  is  not  the  less  natural 
that  it  is  at  the  same  time  supernatural.  Nor  are  we 
stayed  in  our  progress  by  any  question  as  to  how  far 
it  is  possible  for  us  to  attain  his  perfection.  We  may 
labour  to  attain  ever-growing  knowledge,  even  with  the 
belief  that  we  shall  not  attain  perfect  knowledge  in  this 
life.  We  may  labour  after  ever-increasing  and  ever- 
improving  health,  with  the  belief  that  perfect  health  is 
impossible.  Why,  then,  should  it  be  neccessary  to  de- 
termine whether  it  be  or  be  not  possible  to  attain  per- 
fect exemption  from  sin,  and  perfect  conformity  to 
Christ  in  this  world,  in  order  to  our  pressing  towards 
the  goal  for  the  prize  of  our  high  calling  ?  It  is  enough 
to  know  that,  as  Christians,  we  can  tolerate  no  sin,  and 
be  content  with  no  defect.  Our  ideal  is  perfect. 
Whether  we  may  ever  fully  realize  it  in  this  life  or  not, 
we  shall  press  towards  it.  And  if  we  are  rightly  minded, 
naught  on  earth  shall  turn  us  aside  from  the  pursuit 
till  we  reflect  an  unbroken  image  of  him  who  did  no 
sin,  and  in  whose  mouth  there  was  no  guile. 

"  Oh  for  a  heart  to  praise  my  God, 
A  heart  from  sia  set  free; 
A  heart  that's  sprinkled  with  the  blood 
So  freely  shed  for  me. 

"  A  heart  in  every  thought  renewed, 
And  filled  with  love  divine; 
Perfect  and  right,  and  pure  and  good ; 
A  copy,  Lord,  of  thine." 

*  Job  xxix.  13,  15, 16. 


PART  THE  FIRST 


WORK 


CHAPTER      L— THE  SOUL'S  WORK. 
CHAPTER    II.— THE  WORLD'S  WORK. 
CHAPTER  III.— SOCIAL  WORK. 


"My  Father  worketh  hitherto;  and  I  work." 

Ous  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 


23 


"  Go  labour  on ;  spend  and  be  spent; 
Thy  joy  to  do  the  Father's  will, 
It  is  the  way  the  Master  went ; 
Should  not  the  servant  tread  it  still  ? 

"Go  labour  on:  'tis  not  for  naught: 
Thy  earthly  loss  is  heavenly  gain. 
Men  heed  thee,  love  thee,  praise  thee  not ; 
The  Master  praises  : — What  are  men? 

"  Go  labour  on  :  enough,  while  here, 
If  he  shall  praise  thee,  if  he  deign 
Thy  willing  heart  to  mark  and  cheer, 
No  toil  for  him  shall  be  in  vain." 


HOEATIDS  BONAR. 


24 


CHAPTER    I. 
THE  SOUL'S  WORK. 

Contents. — Requisites  to  its  successful  prosecution — Its  proper 
end — Similitude  by  Dr.  Payson — By  Samuel  Pearce — The  grand 
principle  of  Christ's  life — Of  the  Christian's — Exaggeration  of 
it  by  Madame  Guyon — The  apostle  John — Paul — Brainerd — 
Light — Love— Examples  of  harmonious  goodness — Paul — John 
Howe — Henry  Martyn — Brainerd  and  Fletcher  of  Madeley  con- 
trasted— The  Patriarchs  constitutionally  diflFerent — The  glory  of 
Christ — Practical  dangers — The  neglect  of  little  things — Per- 
fection made  up  of  trifles — How  Christian  love  is  to  be  cultivated 
— By  the  knowledge  and  contemplation  of  the  divine  character 
— The  necessity  of  reconciliation — Permanent  application  of 
first  principles — Edward  Bickersteth  and  Dr.  Chalmers — Specific 
means  of  spiritual  improvement — Written  covenants — Resolu- 
tions— Self-examination — Private  journals — Means  of  Christ's 
progress  —  Prayer — Holy  Scripture  —  Havelock  —  Gardiner  — 
Henry  Martyn — Sarah  Martin — Chalmers— George  Wagner — 
Sabbath  ordinances — John  Wesley  and  the  Mystics — Christ  and 
external  ordinances. 


"  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart ;  for  they  shall  see  God." — Matt.  v.  8. 
3  25 


Along  the  mountain  track  of  life, 

Along  the  weary  lea, 
O'er  rocks,  'mid  storms,  in  joy,  in  strife, 
Let  this  my  heart-cry  be, 
"  Nearer  to  Thee ;  nearer  to  Thee." 

This  pilgrim-path  by  thee  was  trod, 

Jesus,  my  King,  by  thee ; 
Traced  by  thy  feet,  thy  tears,  thy  blood, 

In  love,  in  death,  for  me. 
Oh !  bring  my  soul  nearer  to  thee. 

Let  every  step,  let  every  thought, 

Sweet  mem'ries  bear  of  thee; 
And  hear  the  soul  thy  love  hath  bought, 
Whose  war-cry  oft  shall  be, 
"Nearer  to  Thee ;  nearer  to  Thee." 

Be  it  the  heaven  I  hope  above. 

To  live  and  move  in  thee. 
Oh !  by  thy  past,  thy  promised  love, 
Grant  these  blest  words  to  me, 
*' AscKXD,  FORGIVEN,  nearer  to  ME." 


26 


THE    SOUL'S    WORK. 

This  is  the  hardest  work  of  all,  involving  more  of 
conflict  and  continuous  eff'ort  than  any  other,  but  the 
most  blessed  in  its  present  satisfactions,  and  the  most 
triumphant  in  its  issues.  Of  its  conflicts  we  shall 
speak  hereafter,  of  its  aims  and  endeavours  now. 

But  the  very  first  thing  that  is  required  to  its  suc- 
cessful prosecution  is  the  conviction  that  spiritual 
progress  is  a  icork,  and  is  not  to  be  attained  without 
toil  and  painstaking.  The  sun  ascends  the  heaven 
from  dawn  to  midday :  the  season  advances  from  dead 
winter  to  living  spring  and  ripe  autumn  :  all  inde- 
pendently of  the  human  will.  But  it  is  not  so  with 
the  kingdom  of  God,  either  in  its  external  progress 
throughout  the  world,  or  in  its  internal  progress  in 
the  individual  soul.  In  some  aspects  it  is  "  as  if  a 
man  should  cast  seed  into  the  ground;  and  should 
sleep  and  rise,  night  and  day,  and  the  seed  should 
spring  and  grow  up,  he  knoweth  not  how."  *  But 
in  other  aspects  likewise  does  it  resemble  the  pro- 
cesses of  husbandry.  There  must  be  the  plowing, 
and  the  sowing,  and  the  watering,  and  the  reaping. 
There  are  powers,  divine  powers,  at  work  in  the 
field,  over  which  the  husbandman  has  no  control, 
although  without  them  his  labours  will  be  in  vain. 
But  these  powers  do  not  supersede  the  husbandman's 
labours;  and,  by  the  ordinance  of  God  himself,  the 

*  Mark  iv.  26,  27. 

27 


28  .  THE  soul's  work. 

human  work  is  as  essential  to  the  production  of  the 
harvest  as  the  divine. 

The  language  of  New  Testament  piety  is  not  that  of 
mere  repose  in  the  power  and  faithfulness  of  God  :  it 
breathes  a  spirit  of  personal  and  unceasing  eflfort :  "  So 
run,  that  ye  may  obtain.  And  every  man  that  striveth 
for  the  mastery  is  temperate  in  all  things.  Now  they 
do  it  to  obtain  a  corruptible  crown ;  but  we  an  incor- 
ruptible. I  therefore  so  run,  not  as  uncertainly;  so 
fight  I,  not  as  one  that  beateth  the  air :  but  I  keep 
under  my  body,  and  bring  it  into  subjection  :  lest  that 
by  any  means,  when  I  have  preached  to  others,  I 
myself  should  be  a  castaway."*  If  ever  Christian 
might  trust  to  the  force  of  the  first  impulse  which 
he  received  in  conversion,  or  to  the  spontaneous 
action  of  the  principles  implanted  in  his  soul  by 
the  grace  of  Grod,  or  to  the  security  afi'orded  by 
divine  promises,  and  give  himself  no  concern  about 
his  progress  or  perseverance,  that  Christian  was  Paul 
the  apostle.  But  he  was  far  otherwise  minded.  And 
only  on  the  Grecian  stadium,  with  its  hard-disciplined, 
lightly  girt,  ^  eager,  panting  runners  and  wrestlers, 
could  he  find  the  human  emblem  of  the  intenseness  of 
efibrt  and  vigilance  with  which  he  was  accustomed  to 
urge  onward  in  his  Christian  course.  "  This  one 
thing  I  do,  forgetting  those  things  which  are  behind, 
and  reaching  forth  unto  those  things  which  are  before, 
I  press  toward  the  mark  for  the  prize  of  the  high 
calling  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus. "f  And  in  accord- 
ance with  his  own  practice  were  his  instructions 
to  others — instructions,  not  the  fruit  of  his  own 
wisdom,  but  of  divine  inspiration — "  Work  out  your 
own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling.     For  it  is  God 

*  1  Corinthians  ix.  24—27.      f  Philippians  iii.  13,  14. 


THE    christian's    END    AND   AIM.  29 

whicli  worketh  in  you  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  his 
good  pleasure."*  In  the  same  spirit  the  apostle  Peter 
wrote — "  Giving  all  diligence,  add  to  your  faith  virtue ; 
and  to  virtue  knowledge;  and  to  knowledge  temper- 
ance; and  to  temperance  patience;  and  to  patience 
godliness;  and  to  godliness  brotherly  kindness;  and 

to  brotherly  kindness  charity Give  diligence  to 

make  your  calling  and  election  sure  :  for  if  ye  do  these 
things,  ye  shall  never  fall :  for  so  an  entrance  shall  be 
ministered  unto  you  abundantly  into  the  everlasting 
kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. ""j" 

Next  in  importance  to  the  conviction  that  the  soul 
is  not  passive,  but  active,  in  spiritual  progress,  and 
that  its  activity  must  be  earnest  and  incessant,  is  a 
distinct  understanding  of  the  end  of  its  endeavours; 
an  end  which  may  be  set  forth  either  in  the  language 
of  figure  and  analogy,  or  in  the  simpler  but  less  im- 
pressive form  of  direct  statement. 

Dr.  Payson  addressed  his  flock  on  one  occasion  in 
these  words — *'  Suppose  professors  of  religion  to  be 
ranged  in  different  concentric  circles  around  Christ  as 
their  common  centre.  Some  value  the  presence  of 
their  Saviour  so  highly,  that  they  cannot  bear  to  be  at 
any  distance  from  him.  Even  their  work  they  will 
bring  up  and  do  it  in  the  light  of  his  countenance; 
and,  while  engaged  in  it,  will  be  seen  constantly 
raising  their  eyes  to  him  as  if  fearful  of  losing  one 
beam  of  his  light.  Others,  who,  to  be  sure,  would 
not  be  content  to  live  out  of  his  presence,  are  yet  less 
wholly  absorbed  by  it  than  these,  and  may  be  seen  a 
little  farther  off,  engaged  here  and  there  in  their 
various  callings,  their  eyes  generally  upon  their  work, 

*  Philippians  ii.  12, 13.        f  2  Peter  i.  5. 11. 
3* 


30  THE    soul's   work. 

but  often  looking  up  for  the  light  which  they  love. 
A  third  class,  beyond  these,  includes  a  doubtful  mul- 
titude, many  of  whom  are  so  engaged  in  their  worldly 
schemes,  that  they  may  be  seen  standing  sideways  to 
Christ,  looking  mostly  the  other  way,  and  only  now 
and  then  turning  their  faces  towards  the  light.  And 
yet  farther  out,  amongst  the  last  scattered  rays,  so 
distant  that  it  is  often  doubtful  whether  they  come  at 
all  within  their  influence,  is  a  mixed  assemblage  of 
busy  ones,  some  with  their  backs  wholly  turned  upon 
the  sun,  and  most  of  them  so  careful  and  troubled 
about  their  many  things  as  to  spare  but  little  time  for 
their  Saviour."  The  aim  and  purpose  of  the  Chris- 
tian soul  must  be  to  press  into  the  innermost  of  these 
circles.  To  be  content  with  a  place  in  any  of  the 
circles  that  are  without,  will  be  at  once  the  surrender 
of  privilege  and  the  violation  of  duty. 

The  Rev.  Samuel  Pearce,  in  a  familiar  letter  to  a 
friend,  wrote  as  follows — "  What  are  we,  my  bro- 
ther, but  so  many  satellites  to  Jesus,  the  great  Sun  of 
the  Christian  system  ?  Some,  indeed,  like  burning 
Mercuries,  keep  near  the  luminary,  and  receive  more 
of  its  light  and  heat;  whilst  others,  like  the  ringed 
planet,  or  the  Georgium  Sidus,  preserve  a  greater  dis- 
tance, and  reflect  a  greater  portion  of  his  light.  Yet 
if,  amidst  all  this  diversity,  thei/  belong  to  the  si/stem, 
two  things  may  be  affirmed  of  all :  all  keep  time  to  one 
centre,  and  borrow  whatever  light  they  have  from  one 
source.  True  it  is,  that  the  farther  they  are  from  the 
sun,  the  longer  are  they  in  performing  their  revolu- 
tions. And  is  not  this  exemplified  in  us  ?  The  closer 
we  keep  to  Jesus,  the  more  brilliant  are  our  graces, 
the  more  cheerful  and  active  are  our  lives.  But,  alas ! 
we  are  all  comets;  we  all  move  in  eccentric  orbits;  at 


THE   PRINCIPLE    OF   CHRIST's   LIFE.  31 

one  time  glowing  beneath  the  ray  divine;  at  another 
freezing  and  congealing  like  icicles."  Adopting  this 
figure,  the  aim  and  purpose  of  the  Christian  soul  is  to 
move  in  an  orbit  as  near  to  the  central  sun  as  possible, 
and  to  move  in  it  steadily,  receiving  and  reflecting  all 
the  light  of  which  its  powers  render  it  capable. 

In  other  words,  the  aim  and  purpose  of  the  Christian 
soul  is  to  attain  the  moral  likeness  of  Christ. 

Now  we  know  the  principle  which  governed  the  life 
of  Christ.  It  is  disclosed  in  the  prophetic  words,  "  Lo, 
I  come  :  I  delight  to  do  thy  will,  0  my  God  :  yea,  thy 
law  is  within  my  heart."  *  The  will  of  God,  which  he 
knew  immediately  and  infallibly,  was  his  rule  :  it  was 
the  power  which  animated  and  inspired  him  in  action. 
'*  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  about  my  Father's  busi- 
ness ?  "-f  "  My  meat  is  to  do  the  will  of  him  that  sent 
me,  and  to  finish  his  work."  "  I  came  down  from 
heaven,  not  to  do  mine  own  will,  but  the  will  of 
him  that  sent  me.'^J  The  life  of  Jesus  Christ  was 
one  of  perfect  obedience ;  obedience  to  the  living  and 
personal  Author  of  the  law ;  obedience,  not  in  the  letter 
merely,  but  iu  the  spirit.  The  surrender  of  himself  to 
God  was  full  and  unreserved.  The  principle  which 
regulated  his  actions  was  not  the  constraining  con- 
sciousness of  a  work  which  must  be  done,  but  the  free 
spontaneous  impulse  of  love,  moving  him  to  do  what 
his  nature  would  not  let  him  leave  undone.  His  was 
love  to  God,  and  love  to  man.  He  drew  the  copious 
streams  from  the  divine  fountain,  not  in  order  to  keep 
them  to  himself,  but  that  he  might  constantly,  un- 
weariedly,  impart  them  to  others.  The  character  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  presents  to  us  the  harmony  of  a  life 

*  Psalm  xl.  7,  8,  f  Luke  ii.  49.  %  John  iv.  34;  vi.  38. 


32  THE  soul's  work. 

which,  in  action  as  well  as  in  suffering,  was  ever  equally 
penetrated  with  the  Spirit  of  God  ;  which  had  its  source 
in  the  perfect  love  of  God,  and  realized  itself  in  the 
highest  and  most  costly  love  to  man.  Sin,  which  is  in 
its  very  nature  antagonistic  to  God,  can  find  no  place 
where  selfishness,  which  is  its  essence  and  principle,  is 
utterly  abolished  by  the  full  energy  of  love  to  God  and 
man. 

It  is  not  lawful  for  us,  the  saved,  to  be  content  with 
an  aim  short  of  having  our  souls  attuned,  as  was  that 
of  Christ,  the  Saviour.  We  are  like  him  in  propor- 
tion as  our  will,  like  his,  is  in  union  and  unison  with 
the  will  of  God  in  all  things — in  the  method  of  our 
salvation,  in  the  providence  which  governs  us,  and  in 
the  whole  law  of  our  earthly  life.  "  To  believe,  to  feel, 
to  speak,  to  act  exactly  as  God  will  have  me,''  said  the 
Kev.  Samuel  Pearce  ;  "  to  be  wholly  absorbed  and  takeu 
up  with  him  j  this,  this,  nothing  short  of  this,  can 
make  my  bliss  complete.  But  all  this  is  mine.  Oh  ! 
the  height,  the  depth,  the  length,  the  breadth  of  re- 
deeming love  !  It  conquers  my  heart,  and  constrains 
me  to  yield  myself  a  living  sacrifice,  acceptable  to  God 
through  Jesus  Christ." 

There  are  few  examples  of  a  will  in  harmony  with 

Madame  Guyon;    ^^^  ^^^^  ^^    ^«^    ^^^^    illustrioUS    than 

i^^8:  ^d^ied  J^^e  ^^^t  of  Madame  GuYON.  But  a  few 
9th,  1717.  weeks  before  her  death  she  wrote  to  a 

friend  — "  Last  night  my  pains  were  so  great  as 
to  call  into  exercise  all  the  resources  and  aids  of 
faith.  God  heard  the  prayer  of  his  poor  sufferer. 
Grace  was  triumphant.  It  is  trying  to  nature ;  but 
I  can  still  say,  in  this  last  struggle,  that  I  love 
the   hand   that  smites   me."     And  this  is  the  spirit 


ERROR   OF    MADAME    GUYON.  33 

which  animated  her  long  life  of  active  labour  and  of 
varied  sorrow.  To  be  nothing  in  herself,  to  find  her 
all  in  God,  to  know,  to  do,  and,  as  a  child,  to  suffer 
her  Father's  will,  was  the  one  aim  of  her  prayers  and 
endeavours. 

With  Madame  Guyon's  views  of  the  harmony  of  the 
human  will  with  the  divine  there  was  intermingled, 
however,  an  error  of  no  small  magnitude,  an  error 
which  has  often  appeared  in  forms  both  less  and  more 
extravagant  than  in  her.  Jeremy  Taylor  relates,  in 
one  of  his  sermons,  the  following  legend  :  —  "  Saint 
Lewis  the  King  having  sent  Ivo,  Bishop  of  Chartres, 
on  an  embassy,  the  bishop  met  a  woman  on  the  way, 
grave,  sad,  fantastic,  and  melancholy,  with  fire  in 
one  hand,  and  water  in  the  other.  He  asked  what 
these  symbols  meant.  She  answered,  ^  My  purpose 
is,  with  fire  to  burn  paradise,  and  with  water  to 
quench  the  flames  of  hell,  that  men  may  serve  God 
without  the  incentives  of  hope  and  fear,  and  purely 
for  the  love  of  God.'"  This  fanciful  personage  may 
be  regarded  as  the  embodiment  of  that  religious 
idea  to  which  is  given  the  name  of  Quietism,  or 
Mysticism.  The  idea  that  the  soul  is  "  made  perfect 
in  love,"  only  when  it  loves  God  ^^  purely,"  without 
regard  or  reference  of  any  kind  to  the  benefits  and 
mercies  which  it  has  received  from  the  divine  hand ; 
when  it  loves  God  so  purely,  for  his  own  sake,  as 
to  be  willing  to  endure  even  eternal  wrath  if  it 
should  please  him  so  to  ordain — this  idea  is  involved 
in  many  of  Madame  Guyon's  writings,  and  nowhere 
more  affectingly  than  in  her  poem,  entitled  "  The 
Dealings  of  God,  or  the  Divine  Love  in  bringing 
the  Soul  to  a  state  of  Absolute  Acquiescence."     It 


34  THE  soul's  work. 

"  'Twas  my  purpose,  on  a  day, 
To  embark  and  sail  away. 
As  I  climbed  the  vessel's  side, 
Love  was  sporting  in  the  tide  : 
'  Come,'  he  said,  '  ascend,  make  haste  : 
Launch  into  the  boundless  waste.'  " 

And,  after  being  tossed  on  '^  the  boundless  waste''  for 
a  season,  the  soul's  courage  was  tried  by  being  cast  on 
the  "  briny  wave,'^  without  ship  or  visible  support  of 
any  kind.  But  instead  of  resenting  this  "unexpected 
turn,"  or  wishing  herself  on  shore,  "  Be  still,'^  she 
cried  :  "  if  I  must  be  lost  I  will." 

Other  difficulties  followed.  She  cried,  but  in  vain  : 
"Love  was  gone,  and  would  not  hear."  The  soul's 
one  desire  was  now  that  Love  would  return,  content 
that  he  should  "frown  with  wrath  or  smile  with 
grace :"  only  let  him  return.  But  it  was  not  to  be. 
And  at  last  the  soul  exclaims : — 

"  Be  not  angry  :  I  resign 
Henceforth  all  my  will  to  thine. 
I  consent  that  thou  depart, 
Though  thine  absence  breaks  my  heart. 
Go,  then,  and  for  ever  too : 
All  is  right  that  thou  wilt  do." 

"  This" — the  poem  concludes — 

"  This  was  just  what  Love  intended : 
He  was  now  no  more  offended : 
Soon  as  I  became  a  child, 
Love  returned  to  me  and  smiled. 
Never  strife  can  more  betide 
'Twixt  the  Bridegroom  and  his  bride." 

Now  this  poem  indicates  states  of  mind  which,  if 
rightly  understood,  are  mutually  irreconcilable;  a 
yearning  of  soul  after  God  as  the  highest  good,  and 
yet  a  willingness  to  part  with  God  for  ever  if  that 
should  be  his  will.  And  it  is  only  by  means  of  some 
hidden  sophism  we  can  persuade  ourselves  that  we 
love  God  as  our  chiefest  good,  and  yet  are  willing,  and 


FENELON   ON   PURE   LOVE.  35 

that  because  we  love  him  so  purely,  to  be  separated 
from  him  for  ever.  To  show  our  love  to  God  by 
willingness  to  endure  perdition,  what  is  it  but  to 
attest  our  devotion  to  him  by  our  readiness  to  hate 
hira  for  ever  ?  Madame  Guyon  imposed  on  herself  in 
this  matter.  Her  heart  was  right.  She  longed  most 
earnestly  after  God ;  and  to  be  left  at  any  time 
without  God  was  the  only  evil  she  dreaded.  In  the 
prospect  of  imprisonment  in  the  Bastile  for  Christ's 
sake,  she  wrote  : — "  I  feel  no  anxiety  in  view  of  what 
my  enemies  will  do  to  me.  I  have  no  fear  of  anything 
but  of  being  left  to  myself  So  long  as  God  is  with 
me,  neither  imprisonment  nor  death  will  have  any 
terror."  And,  when  in  the  Bastile,  her  language  was, 
*^  0  my  God,  if  thou  art  pleased  to  render  me  a 
spectacle  to  men  and  angels,  thy  holy  will  be  done.  All 
I  ask  is,  that  thou  wilt  be  with  and  save  those  who  love 
thee ;  so  that  neither  life  nor  death,  neither  princi- 
palities nor  powers,  may  ever  separate  them  from  the 
love  of  God  which  is  in  Jesus  Christ."  This  is  not 
the  spirit  of  one  who  could  say,  "  I  consent  that  thou 
depart,  though  thine  absence  breaks  my  heart."  Her 
heart  could  not  be  reconciled  to  the  absence  of  her 
Lord.  The  language  of  her  heart,  as  well  as  of  her 
pen,  was — 

"  Could  I  be  cast  -where  thou  art  not, 
That  were,  indeed,  a  dreadful  lot; 
But  regions  none  remote  I  call, 
Secure  of  finding  God  in  all. 
My  country,  Lord,  art  thou  alone  ; 
No  other  can  I  claim  or  own  ; 
The  point  where  all  my  wishes  meet, 
My  law,  my  love,  life's  only  sweet." 

The  friend  of  Madame  Guyon,  Archbishop  Fenfelon, 
came  nearer  the  truth  on  the  subject  of  ^'  pure"  or 
"mixed"  love  in  his  book,  ^'  The  Maxims  of  the  Saints." 


36  THE  soul's  work. 

Of  the  love  of  God,  he  says,  there  are  various  kinds; 
or  at  least  there  are  various  feelings  which  go  under 
that  name. 

First. — There  is  what  may  be  called  mercenary  or 
selfish  love,  that  is  to  say,  that  love  of  God  which 
originates  in  an  exclusive  and  sole  regard  to  our 
own  happiness.  Those  who  love  God  with  no  other 
love  than  this,  love  him  just  as  the  miser  loves  his 
money,  and  just  as  the  voluptuous  man  loves  his 
pleasures;  attaching  no  value  to  God,  except  as  a 
means  to  an  end;  and  that  end  is  the  gratification 
of  themselves.  Such  love,  if  it  can  be  called  by 
that  name,  is  unworthy  of  God.  He  does  not  ask 
it ;  he  will  not  receive  it.  It  is  a  love  of  oneself  rather 
than  of  God. 

Secondly. — There  is  another  kind  of  love,  which 
does  not  exclude  a  regard  to  our  own  happiness  as  a 
motive  of  love,  but  which  at  the  same  time  requires 
this  motive  to  be  subordinate  to  a  much  higher  one, 
namely,  that  of  a  regard  to  God's  glory.  This  love  is 
not  necessarily  selfish  and  wrong.  On  the  contrary, 
when  the  two  objects  of  it,  God  and  ourselves,  are 
relatively  in  the  right  position,  that  is  to  say,  when 
we  love  God  as  he  ought  to  be  loved,  and  love  our- 
selves no  more  than  we  ought  to  be  loved,  it  is  a  love 
which,  in  being  properly  subordinated,  is  unselfish  and 
is  right. 

Fenelon  admits  that  it  is  proper,  in  addressing  even 
religious  men,  to  appeal  to  the  passions  of  fear  and  of 
hope.  "  Such  appeals  are  recognized  in  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  and  are  in  accordance  with  the  views  and 
feelings  of  good  men  in  all  ages  of  the  world.  The 
motives  involved  in  them  are  powerful  aids  to 
beginners   in   religion ;    assisting,    as    they   do,  very 


LOVE   AS    IT   IS   IN    HEAVEN.  37 

much,  in  repressing  the  passions,  and  in  strengthening 
the  practical  virtues." 

But  not  to  beginners  only,  but  to  matured  Chris- 
tians likewise,  may  these  motives  be  addressed.  We 
must  love  God  for  his  own  sake ;  we  must  love  him 
with  heartj  soul,  mind,  and  strength,  for  the  glory, 
excellence,  and  holiness  of  his  own  character.  But 
we  may  love  him  at  the  same  time  for  the  blessings 
of  his  grace  and  providence.  The  former  is  some- 
times called  the  love  of  complacency,  and  the  latter 
the  love  of  gratitude.  To  insist  on  the  former  alone, 
and  to  exclude  the  latter,  is  inconsistent  at  once  with 
the  constitution  of  our  nature  and  with  the  simplicity 
of  the  gospel.  "  We  love  Him  because  he  first  loved 
us,"  says  that  disciple  who,  of  all  men,  may  be  sup- 
posed to  have  best  understood  '^  the  science  of  pure 
love."  Even  the  redeemed  before  the  throne  sing, 
"Unto  him  that  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our 
sins  in  his  own  blood,  and  hath  made  us  kings  and 
priests  unto  God  and  his  Father;  to  him  be  glory  and 
dominion  for  ever."  If  saints  in  glory  are  not  so 
absorbed  with  the  one  idea  of  the  divine  excellency, 
as  the  object  of  their  love,  as  to  overlook  or  rise 
above  the  idea  of  the  benefits  which  divine  grace  hath 
conferred  on  them,  shall  we  be  surprised  to  find  that 
the  most  matured  saints  on  earth  do  not  exclude  the 
good  they  have  received,  and  the  good  they  hope  for, 
from  their  thoughts,  as  a  motive  and  stimulus  to  the 
love  of  God?  It  was  in  extreme  old  age,  with  the 
experience  of  sixty  years  after  the  outpouring  of  the 
Spirit  on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  with  the  guidance  of 
inspiration,  and  when  on  the  verge  of  heaven,  that 
the  apostle  John  said,  "  We  love  him  because  he  first 
loved  us,"  and  made  this  the  foundation  of  that 
4 


38  THE  soul's  work. 

"  perfect  love "  which  "  casteth  out  fear."*  In  the 
daily  prospect  of  martyrdom,  the  apostle  Paul,  whose 
Christian  life  was  one  of  the  purest  unselfishness, 
contemplated,  with  grateful  satisfaction,  the  good  that 
was  in  store  for  him  in  heaven  : — *'  Henceforth  there 
is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of  righteousness,  which  the 
Lord,  the  righteous  Judge,  shall  give  me  at  that  day : 
and  not  to  me  only,  but  unto  all  them  also  that  love 
his  appearing.""!' 

David  Bratnerd,  one  of  the  holiest  of  men,  burned 
•^    ^  -o    •     ^    ^ith  vehement  desire  to  love  God  ab- 

David  Bramerd; 

1718 :  ditd October  stractcdly  from  every  other  considera- 
°*^'^'"  tion  than  the  glory,  excellence,  and  holi- 

ness of  the  divine  character.  Yet  we  find  in  his  diary 
such  entries  as  these  :  "  I  found  my  heart  going  out 
after  God  in  longing  desires  of  conformity  after  him, 
and  in  secret  prayer  found  myself  quickened,  and  drawn 
out  in  praise  for  all  that  he  had  done  for  me;  yea,  for 

all  my  trials  and  distresses Time  appeared 

to  me  an  inch  long,  and  eternity  at  hand :  I  saw  that 
a  moment  would  bring  me  to  a  world  of  peace  and 
blessedness."  He  was  longing  for  "  a  world  of  peace 
and  blessedness,"  that  he  might  love  God  for  his  own 
sake,  and  without  distraction,  but  certainly  not  with- 
out a  personal  cause  for  loving  him.  The  very  aspect 
in  which  he  thought  of  heaven,  as  a  ^^  world  of  peace 
and  blessedness,"  involved  the  consideration  of  his 
own  happiness.  And  it  is  instructive  to  find  in 
Madame  Guyon  herself,  after  all  her  speculations  on 
"  pure  love,"  and  the  "  annihilation  of  self,"  that  the 
recognition  of  the  personal  good  she  received  from 
Christ  only  became  clearer  and  more  distinct  as  she 

*  1  John  iv.  18, 19.        f  2  Timothy  iv.  8. 


LIGHT    A  SYMBOL    OF    CHARACTER.  39 

approached  the  end  of  her  course.  "  The  greatest 
satisfaction  I  can  have/'  she  said,  "  is  the  knowledge 
that  the  Lord  whom  I  love  is  what  he  is;  and  that, 
being  what  he  is,  he  never  will  or  can  be  otherwise. 
If  I  am  saved  at  last,  it  will  be  the  free  gift  of  God; 
since  I  have  no  worth  and  no  merit  of  my  own."  Thus 
did  she  connect  the  hope  of  personal  salvation  with 
her  glorying  in  God.  "  If  I  can  only  be  accepted  of 
him,"  was  her  thought  in  the  Bastile,  *'  I  am  willing 
that  all  men  should  despise  and  hate  me.  Their  strokes 
will  polish  what  may  be  defective  in  me,  so  that  I  may 
be  presented  in  peace  to  him  for  whom  I  die  daily. 
Without  his  favour  I  am  wretched.  0  Saviour,  I 
present  myself  before  thee,  an  offering,  a  sacrifice. 
Purify  me  in  thy  blood,  that  I  may  be  accepted  of 
thee."  And  in  her  "  last  will,"  written  a  short  time 
before  her  death,  she  said :  "  It  is  to  thee,  0  Lord 
God,  that  1  owe  all  things ;  and  it  is  to  thee  that  I 

now  surrender  up  all  that  I  am Thou  know- 

est  that  there  is  nothing  in  heaven  or  on  earth  that  I 
desire  but  thee  alone.  Within  thy  hands,  0  God,  I 
leave  my  soul,  not  relying  for  my  salvation  on  any  good 
that  is  in  me,  but  solely  on  thy  mercies,  and  the  merits 
and  sufferings  of  my  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

'^  God  is  light; "  and  they  who  do  his  will  from  the 
heart,  as  did  Christ,  bear  his  image ;  they  are  "  light 
in  the  Lord."  Of  all  material  things,  light  is  the  most 
glorious,  (described  by  the  bard  of  ^'Paradise  Lost" 
as  "  Ethereal,  first  of  things,  quintessence  pure,") 
and  therefore  the  most  fit  to  be  the  symbol  of  the 
divine  character.  But  light  is  a  compound  of  various 
rays;  and  while  we  admire  its  bright  integrity  as  it 
streams  from  the  sun,  we  admire  its  component  parts 


m 


THE    SOUL  S    WORK. 


as  they  are  seen  in  the  rainbow.  In  the  character  of 
Christ,  we  find  all  excellences  so  commingled  and 
proportioned  as  to  form  pure  light;  but  we  may,  at 
the  same  time,  study  these  excellences  separately;  and 
then  are  they  beautiful  as  the  variegated  hues  of  the 
rainbow.  In  the  characters  of  his  followers,  virtues  and 
graces  are  not  so  harmonized  as  to  produce  the  effect 
of  pure  light.  The  reflection  of  his  light  in  them  is 
mirrored  forth  with  manifold  variety,  according  to  the 
differences  of  various  minds,  "  even  as  the  morning 
sun  comes  to  us  in  the  hues  of  the  mountain,  the  waves 
of  the  sea,  the  flowers  of  the  field,  and  the  innumera- 
ble drops  of  dew,  each  vieing  with  the  rest  to  show 
forth  some  beam  of  the  great  luminary/' 

We  put  the  same  truth  in  another  form  when  we 
say  that  the  love  of  God  in  the  heart  is  a  many-fruited 
principle.  It  is  the  root  whence  grow  what  may  be 
called  both  the  larger  and  the  smaller  virtues  and 
graces  of  the  Christian  character.  And  these  are 
found  in  a  great  variety  of  proportions,  so  that  we 
naturally  select  individuals  as  types  of  particular 
graces,  or  their  lives  as  examples  of  particular  lessons 
and  truths.  Thus,  in  a  well-known  book,*  we  have 
chapters  on  "  William  Tyndale,  or  Labour  and  Pa- 
tience;" "Richard  Hooker,  or  a  Soul  in  Love  with 
God's  Law  and  Holy  Order ;  "  "  Robert  Leighton,  or 
the  Peacefulness  of  Faith ; "  "  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  or 
Secular  Piligence  and  Spiritual  Fervour;"  ''John 
Bunyan,  or  Spiritual  Valour  and  Victory ; "  "  Richard 
Baxter,  or  Earnest  Decision ; "  "  Matthew  Henry,  or 
Meekness  of  Wisdom; "  "  George  Whitefield,  or  Seraph- 

*  "  The  Lights  of  the  World,"  by  the  Rev,  John  Stoughton. 


EXAMPLES    OF    HARMONY.  41 

like  Zeal;"  ''John  William  Fletcher  of  Madeley,  or 
Intense  Devotion  ;  "  "  John  Newton,  or  Social  Affec- 
tions Sanctified  ;  "  "  Henry  Martyn,  or  Self-Denial." 
And  these  might  be  multiplied  indefinitely.  All  the 
graces  of  the  Spirit  spring  from  the  same  root  of  faith 
and  love  in  the  renewed  heart;  but  they  do  not  all 
and  always  grow  alike  vigorously.  And  even  where 
they  all  exist,  and  that  in  some  good  measure,  it  often 
happens  that  one  overshadows  the  rest. 

Men  are  found  occasionally,  however,  who  may  be 
cited  as  examples  of  harmonious  goodness,  rather  than 
of  pre-eminence  in  particular  graces.  Among  the 
men  of  the  Bible,  Moses  and  Paul  were  of  this  order. 
Both  are  very  distinguishable  from  those  with  whom 
their  names  are  much  associated,  as  Moses  from  Aaron, 
and  Paul  from  John,  but  it  is  chiefly  in  this  very 
respect.  "  As  the  mind  tries  to  rest  upon  the  promi- 
nent points  of  the  character  which  the  career  of  Moses 
evinces,  we  find  ourselves  baffled,"  says  Dr.  Kitto. 
"  We  think  of  the  faith  of  Abraham,  of  the  conscien- 
tiousness of  Joseph,  of  the  contrition  of  David,  of  the 
generosity  of  Jonathan,  of  the  zeal  of  Elijah — but 
v^rhat  do  we  regard  as  the  dominant  quality  of  Moses  ? 
It  is  not  to  be  found.  The  mind  is  perplexed  in  the 
attempt  to  fix  on  any.  It  is  not  firmness,  it  is  not 
perseverance,  it  is  not  disinterestedness,  it  is  not 
patriotism,  it  is  not  confidence  in  God,  it  is  not  meek- 
ness, it  is  not  humility,  it  is  not  forgetfulness  of  self, 
that  forms  his  distinguishing  characteristic.  It  is  not 
any  one  of  these.  It  is  all  of  them.  His  virtues, 
his  graces,  were  all  equal  to  each  other;  and  it  was 
their  beautifully  harmonious  operation  and  develop- 
ment which  constituted  his  noble,  and  all  but  perfect, 
4« 


42  THE    soul's    work. 

character.  This  was  the  greatness  of  Moses :  this 
was  the  glory  of  his  character.  It  is  a  kind  of  cha- 
racter rare  in  any  man;  and  in  no  man,  historically 
known,  has  it  been  so  completely  manifested.^'  Dr. 
Kitto  thinks  "  the  exigencies  of  even  those  great  affairs 
which  engaged  his  thought,  did  not,  and  could  not, 
call  forth  on  any  one  occasion,  all  the  high  qualities 
with  which  he  was  gifted.  It  is  rarely  possible  to 
see  more  than  one  high  endowment  in  action  at  the 
same  time.  But  we  find  Moses  equal  to  every  occa- 
sion :  he  is  never  lacking  in  the  virtue  which  the  occa- 
sion requires  him  to  exercise ;  and  by  this  we  know 
that  he  possessed  them  all.'' 

The  apostle  Paul  seems  to  us  remarkably  like 
Moses  in  these  respects.  It  would  be  difficult  to 
name  the  virtue  or  the  grace  in  which  he  was  found 
deficient.  And  if  any  one  virtue  or  grace  were  named 
as  the  dominant  quality  in  his  character,  it  will  be 
found  to  have  been  so  supported  and  surrounded  by 
other  qualities  as  not  to  rise  with  undue  prominence 
above  the  common  level  of  his  nature;  while  the 
common  level  of  his  whole  moral  being  was  so  elevated 
as  to  possess  the  grandeur  without  the  ruggedness  of 
a  land  of  mountains.  In  decision  of  purpose  he  was 
immovably  firm ;  but  it  was  not  the  decision  of  pride 
or  self-will :  where  conscientious  principle  was  not  in- 
volved, he  was  pliant  as  the  willow.  In  courage  he 
rose  to  a  height  of  heroism  which  has  never  been 
transcended ;  but  it  was  not  the  courage  of  a  lion-like 
animal  nature,  but  of  a  man  of  gentle  and  tender 
spirit,  who,  like  his  Divine  Master,  would  not  break 
the  bruised  reed.  In  zeal  he  prosecuted  his  work 
with  the  directness  and  intense  speed  with  which  the 
arrow  seeks  the  mark;  but  that  zeal  never  burned 


JOHN    HOWE.  43 

with  frautic  fury  :  it  only  glowed,  and  always  glowed 
with  the  warmth  of  a  pure  and  genial  love.  If  the 
wickedness  of  a  sorcerer  elicited  the  indignant  rebuke, 
''  0  full  of  all  subtlety  and  all  mischief,  thou  child  of 
the  devil,  thou  enemy  of  all  righteousness,  wilt  thou 
not  cease  to  pervert  the  right  ways  of  the  Lord  ?"  the 
misery  to  which  ungodly  men  were  hasting  drew  forth 
bis  tears  :  "  Many  walk,  of  whom  I  have  told  you 
often,  and  now  tell  you  even  weeping,  that  they  are 
the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ.'^  And  in  both  he 
was  like  his  Lord.  The  three  graces  of  faith,  hope, 
and  love,  with  the  fruits  which  these  produce  accord- 
ing to  the  circumstances  which  demand  their  exercise, 
will  be  found  in  the  character  of  Paul  in  beautiful 
harmony.  So  that,  whereas  he  was  once  the  chief  of 
sinners,  we  shall  not  err  in  calling  him  the  chief  of 
saints.  The  completeness  and  comprehensiveness  of 
his  Master's  character  has  never  been  more  fully  re- 
produced than  in  Paul  the  apostle. 

Among  moderns,  John  Howe  may  be  cited  as  an 
example  of  harmonious  goodness  rather 

.  .  John  Howe ;  born 

than  01  pre-eminence  in  particular  ^'^^i^^' ifos*  ^^^ 
graces.  His  biographer  dwells  with  en- 
thusiasm on  the  symmetry  of  both  his  intellectual  and 
spiritual  character.  Most  of  those  characters  which 
have  won  the  admiration  of  mankind,  Mr.  Kogers  re- 
marks, have  been  marked  by  a  peculiar  individualiti/y 
resulting  from  the  disproportionate,  and,  in  some 
cases,  enormous  development  of  some  master  faculty. 
But  from  the  calm  firmament  of  Howe's  mind  shine 
forth  all  the  various  faculties  of  the  soul,  each  with  its 
allotted  tribute  of  light,  and  with  a  serene  and  solemn 
lustre.     "  Star  differeth  from  star  in  glory ;"  but  no 


44  THE  soul's  work. 

one  extinguishes  or  eclipses  the  rest.  Even  so  with 
his  spiritual  character.  His  piety  determined  each 
faculty  to  its  appropriate  objects,  and  regulated  the 
measure  of  its  exercise.  It  permitted  none  of  them, 
so  to  speak,  to  break  the  ranJcSj  but  led  them  on  in  a 
stately  and  solemn  march  in  the  progress  towards 
perfection.  In  communion  with  the  supreme  good, 
in  contemplation  of  the  noblest  forms  of  spiritual 
beauty  and  spiritual  excellence,  in  a  diligent  prepara- 
tion for  a  nobler  state  of  being,  he  realli/  found  the 
highest  pleasures  of  his  existence;  he  attained  as 
complete  an  ascendency  over  sensual  and  animal  na- 
ture, and  as  lofty  an  elevation  over  the  world,  as  was 
ever  vouchsafed  to  poor  humanity.  In  all  transactions 
with  the  world,  he  exhibited  a  rare  combination  of 
prudence  and  integrity.  In  that  most  delicate  task, 
the  reproof  of  others,  he  was  inflexibly  faithful,  yet 
always  kind  ;  and  while  he  remembered  what  was  due 
to  the  majesty  of  truth,  never  forgot  what  was  also 
due  to  the  claims  of  charity.  He  was  frank,  yet  not 
rash;  and  cautious,  yet  free  from  suspicion.  In  his 
deportment,  he  knew  how  to  conciliate  the  utmost 
elevation  of  character  with  the  gentlest  condescension 
and  the  acutest  sensibility.  Dignified,  but  not  austere, 
he  was  "grave  without  moroseness,  and  cheerful  with- 
out levity."  While  he  subjected  all  the  inferior  prin- 
ciples of  his  nature  to  the  control  of  reason,  itself 
enlightened  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  he  was  not  so  absurd 
as  to  attempt  their  annihilation ;  nor  did  the  loftiest 
attainments  of  intellect  interfere  with  the  varied  dis- 
play of  all  human  charities.  His  devotion  was  deep, 
habitual,  and  intense ;  it  was  not  founded  on  a  partial 
or  distorted  view  of  the  divine  character,  but  was  just 
the  impression  likely  to  be  produced  by  a  harmonious 


HENRY   MARTYN.  45 

perception  of  the  various  relations  in  whicl^  man 
stands  to  God  under  the  gospel  economy.  His  piety 
was  habitual  and  all-pervading  as  it  was  deep.  It 
united  the  most  burning  zeal  with  the  coolest  judg- 
ment; the  most  intense  desire  for  the  glory  of  God 
with  ceaseless  efforts  for  the  welfare  of  man ;  the 
loftiest  exercises  of  a  deeply  meditative  and  devotional 
spirit  with  the  sedulous  cultivation  of  the  homeliest 
graces;  that  rarest  of  all  combinations,  the  closest 
communion  with  the  future  and  the  eternal,  with  a 
conscientious  and  busy  discharge  of  all  the  duties  of 
to-day. 

The  character  of  Henry  Martyn  may  be  cited  as  an 
afifectino;  illustration  of  the  grace  of  self-     „ 

^  ^  Henry    Martyn  ; 

denial ;  but  it  may  likewise  be  cited  as  i78f;^1ed'oeS)be^r 
an  illustration  of  that  harmony  of  graces  ^^•^^^^• 
which  distinguished  John  Howe.  In  his  faith,  ac- 
cording to  his  biographer,  there  was  a  singular,  a 
child-like  simplicity :  great,  consequently,  was  its 
energy,  both  in  obeying  Christ,  and  in  suffering  for  his 
name's  sake.  By  this,  he  could  behold  blossoms  upon 
the  rod,  even  when  it  was  apparently  dead ;  and  in 
those  events  which,  like  the  captain  of  the  Lord's  host 
seen  by  Joshua,  presented  at  first  a  hostile  aspect,  he 
could  discern  a  favourable  and  a  friendly  countenance. 
Having  listened  to  that  tender  and  overwhelming  inter- 
rogation of  his  Saviour,  "  Lovest  thou  me  V  his  love 
was  fervently  exercised  towards  God  and  man,  at  all 
times  and  in  all  places.  For  it  was  not  like  the  land- 
spring,  which  runs  violently  for  a  season,  and  then 
ceases,  but  resembled  the  fountain,  which  flows  with  a 
perennial  stream  from  the  recesses  of  the  rock.  His 
fear  of  God,  and  tenderness  of  conscience,  and  watch- 


46  THE  soul's  work. 

fulness  over  his  own  heart,  could  scarcely  be  surpassed 
ia  this  state  of  sinful  infirmity.  But  it  was  his  humility 
that  was  most  remarkable  :  this  might  be  considered 
as  the  warp  of  which  the  entire  texture  of  his  piety  was 
composed ;  and  with  this  his  other  Christian  graces 
were  so  intimately  blended,  as  to  beautify  and  adorn 
his  whole  demeanour.  It  was,  in  truth,  the  accordance 
and  consent  of  various  Christian  attainments  in  Mr. 
Martyn,  which  were  so  striking.  The  symmetry  of  his 
stature  in  Christ  was  as  surprising  as  its  height.  That 
communion  which  he  held  with  his  God,  and  which 
caused  his  face  to  shine,  was  ever  chastened,  like  the 
patriarch's  of  old,  by  the  most  awful  reverence.  The 
nearer  the  access  with  which  he  was  favoured,  the  more 
deeply  did  he  feel  that  he  was  but  "sinful  dust  and 
ashes.''  No  discordance  could  he  discover  between 
peace  and  penitence :  no  opposition  between  joy  in 
God  and  utter  abasement  before  him. 

To  be  zealous  without  love,  or  to  have  that  which  is 
miscalled  charity,  without  decision  of  character,  is 
neither  difficult  nor  uncommon.  Mr.  Martyn's  zeal  was 
tempered  with  love,  and  his  love  invigorated  by  zeal. 
He  combined,  also,  ardour  with  prudence ;  gravity  with 
cheerfulness ;  abstraction  from  the  world  with  an  en- 
joyment of  its  lawful  gratifications.  His  extreme  ten- 
derness of  conscience  was  devoid  of  scrupulosity  3  his 
activity  in  good  works  was  joined  to  habits  of  serious 
contemplation ;  his  religious  afi'ections,  which  were 
highly  spiritualized,  exceeded  not  the  limits  of  the 
most  cautious  sobriety,  and  were  so  far  from  impairing 
his  natural  afi'ections,  that  they  raised  and  purified 
them.  "  A  more  perfect  character,"  says  one  who 
bore  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day  with  him  in  India, 
*'  I  never  met  with,  nor  expect  to  see  on  earth." 


BRAINERD    AND    FLETCHER    OF    MADELEY.        47 

The  variety  which  is  tlius  exhibited  to  us,  in  the 
harmony  attained  by  some,  and  in  the  prominence  of 
particular  graces  in  the  character  of  others,  arises  from 
the  operation  of  many  causes,  some  of  them  involving 
a  degree  of  blame,  and  others  beyond  the  power  of  the 
will  to  regulate  or  control.  One  of  the 
chief  of  these  is  probably  to  be  found  in  rieteher  of  Made- 

^  •'  _  ley  contrasted. 

constitutional  differences,  and  in  the 
action  of  external  training  and  circumstances,  a  good 
example  of  which  may  be  found  in  the  contrast  which 
is  presented  to  us  by  the  experiences  of  David  Brainerd 
and  of  Mr.  Fletcher  of  Madeley.  "  The  life  of  David 
Brainerd,"  says  the  Bev.  Bobert  Hall,  "  exhibits  a  per- 
fect pattern  of  the  qualities  which  should  distinguish 
the  instructer  of  rude  and  barbarous  tribes ;  the  most 
invincible  patience  and  self-denial,  the  profoundest 
humility,  exquisite  prudence,  indefatigable  industry, 
and  such  a  devotedness  to  God,  or  rather  such  an 
absorption  of  the  whole  soul  in  zeal  for  the  divine 
glory  and  the  salvation  of  men,  as  is  scarcely  to  be 
paralleled  since  the  age  of  the  apostles.  Such  was  the 
intense  ardour  of  his  mind,  that  it  seems  to  have  diffused 
the  spirit  of  a  martyr  over  the  most  common  incidents 
of  his  life.  His  constitutional  melancholy,  though  it 
must  be  regarded  as  a  physical  imperfection,  imparts 
an  additional  interest  and  pathos  to  the  narrative; 
since  we  more  easily  sympathize  with  the  emotions  of 
sorrow  than  of  joy. 

^'  The  life  of  Fletcher  of  Madeley  affords  in  some 
respects  a  parallel,  in  others  a  contrast,  to  that  of 
Brainerd ;  and  it  is  curious  to  observe  how  the  influ- 
ence of  natural  temperament  varies  the  exhibition  of 
the  same  principles.  With  a  considerable  difference 
in  their  religious  views,  the  same  zeal,  the  same  spirit- 


48  THE  soul's  work. 

uality  of  mind,  the  same  contempt  of  the  world,  is  con- 
spicuous in  the  character  of  each.  But  the  lively 
imagination,  the  sanguine  complexion  of  Fletcher,  per- 
mits him  to  triumph  and  exult  in  the  consolatory  truths 
and  prospects  of  religion.  He  is  a  seraph  who  burns 
with  the  ardours  of  divine  love;  and,  spurning  the 
fetters  of  mortality,  he  almost  habitually  seems  to  have 
anticipated  the  rapture  of  the  beatific  vision.  Brainerd, 
oppressed  with  a  constitutional  melancholy,  is  chiefly 
occupied  with  the  thoughts  of  his  pollutions  and  defects 
in  the  eyes  of  Infinite  Purity.  His  is  a  mourning  and 
conflicting  piety,  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  self-abase- 
ment, breathing  itself  forth  in  'groanings  which  cannot 
be  uttered/  always  dissatisfied  with  itself;  always  toil- 
ing in  pursuit  of  a  purity  and  perfection  unattainable 
by  mortals.  The  mind  of  Fletcher  was  habitually 
brightened  with  gratitude  and  joy  for  what  he  had 
attained;  Brainerd  was  actuated  with  a  restless  solici- 
tude for  further  acquisitions.  If  Fletcher  soared  to  all 
the  heights,  it  may  be  affirmed,  with  equal  truth,  that 
Brainerd  sounded  all  the  depths  of  Christian  piety;  and 
while  the  former  was  regaling  himself  with  fruit  from 
the  tree  of  life,  the  latter,  on  the  waves  of  a  tempestuous 
sea,  was  'doing  business  in  the  mighty  waters.'  Both 
equally  delighted  and  accustomed  to  lose  themselves 
in  the  contemplation  of  the  Deity,  they  seemed  to  have 
surveyed  that  infinite  Object  under  diff"erent  aspects; 
and  while  Fletcher  was  absorbed  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  infinite  benignity  and  love,  Brainerd  shrank 
into  nothing  in  the  presence  of  immaculate  purity  and 
holiness. 

"The  difi'erent  situations  in  which  they  were  placed, 
had  probably  considerable  efiect  in  producing  or 
heightening  their  res}  ective  peculiarities.      Fletcher 


THE   PATRIARCHS.  49 

exercised  his  ministry  in  the  calm  of  domestic  life, 
surrounded  with  the  beauties  of  nature  :  Brainerd  pur- 
sued his  mission  in  a  remote  and  howling  wilderness, 
where,  in  the  midst  of  uncultivated  savages,  he  was 
exposed  to  intolerable  hardships  and  fatigues. 

The  experience  of  both  these  holy  men  would  doubt- 
less have  been  modified  and  somewhat  assimilated  by 
more  comprehensive  views  of  divine  truth  than  each 
possessed  ;  for  who  ever  received  the  whole  of  divine 
truth  in  its  integrity  and  in  the  due  proportion  of  its 
parts  ?  But  apart  from  the  difi"erent  phases  of  truth 
which  they  contemplated,  and  the  difference  of  their 
outward  circumstances,  we  cannot  imagine  men  so 
various  in  their  constitutional  tendencies  exhibiting 
exactly  the  same  type  of  spiritual  excellence. 

The  patriarchs  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  are  very 
distinguishable  from  each  other,  both  constitutionally 
and  religiously.  In  language  full  of  meaning,  we  are 
told  that  "  God  is  not  ashamed  to  be  called  their 
God  :  for  he  hath  prepared  for  them  a  city."  The 
expectations  which  they  were  encouraged  to  cherish 
have  been  realized,  and  God's  promises  to  them  have 
been  fulfilled.  But  the  discipline  of  their  "  pil- 
grimage "  was  necessary  to  prepare  them  for  their 
"  inheritance."  And  the  inspired  estimate  of  their 
character  is  applicable  rather  to  the  results  and  issues 
of  this  discipline,  than  to  the  earlier  stages  of  its 
progress.  When  the  character  of  each  became  de- 
veloped into  maturity  and  meetness  for  the  better 
country,  of  which  they  were  heirs,  they  may  be  re- 
garded as  good  and  venerable  in  the  full  meaning  of  the 
terms;  bright  examples  of  that  virtue  and  holiness  of 
which  Bible  references  to  them  are  so  suggestive. 
6 


50  THE    soul's    work. 

But  these  three  men,  with  a  common  faith  and  a 
common  hope,  present  three  types  of  human  nature, 
and  three  types  likewise  of  religions  character.  The 
character  of  Abraham,  when  we  first  see  him,  is 
capable  of  being  vividly  realized  by  our  observation  of 
mankind.  ''  There  is  nothing  in  anywise  unnatural, 
mysterious,  and  shadowy,  about  him.  We  at  once 
recognize  in  him  a  specimen  of  one  of  those  strong, 
and  genial,  and  large-hearted  men,  whose  very  exterior, 
for  the  most  part,  is  significant  of  a  character  which 
we  can  at  once  trust  in,  and  reverence,  and  love." 
Abraham  was  one  of  those  who  by  constitution  are 
calm,  dignified,  and  moderate  in  their  own  conscious- 
ness of  strength ;  but  who,  when  occasion  requires  it, 
are  as  inflexible  in  their  assertion  of  just  claims,  and  as 
courageous  in  helping  others  to  defend  them.  These 
qualities  were  very  strikingly  shown  in  his  reply  to  the 
king  of  Sodom,  and  again  in  his  concession  "of  the 
left  hand  or  the  right,"  to  his  nephew  Lot,  compared 
with  his  enterprising  efforts  to  rescue  the  same  person, 
when  it  was  reported  that  he  had  been  taken  captive. 
So  strongly  indeed  is  Abraham's  character  developed, 
that  we  may  almost  see  this  dignified  and  affectionate 
chieftain  of  his  people  when  we  have  read  only  a  few 
pages  of  his  history.* 

The  son  is  portrayed  in  a  few  words  with  hardly 
less  vividness  than  the  father.  Isaac  was  '*a  man 
of  amiable  and  gentle  disposition ;  susceptible  to  the 
influence  of  those  around  him;  governed  more  by  his 
affections  than  by  his  judgment;  meditative  in  his 
turn  of  mind;  with  few  wants;  good  rather  than 
great ;  fitted  to  receive  impressions  and  follow  a 
guide;  not  to  originate  important  influences,  or  per- 

*  Q.  S.  Drew:  "Scripture  Studies." 


CONSTITUTIONAL    VARIETIES.  51 

form  deeds  of  renown.  His  almost  entire  silence,  as 
he  submissively  yielded  to  his  father,  when  they  went 
together  to  Mount  Moriah;  his  removal  from  the  wells 
which  he  digged  until  he  found  another  for  which  they 
strove  not;  the  expressive  statement  that  he  went  out 
into  the  fields  to  meditate,  or  to  pray  at  eventide;  his 
submissivcness  under  the  influence  of  Rebecca  ; — these 
and  other  familiar  passages  in  his  history,  enable  us  to 
recognize  this  man  also,  in  the  character  which  has 
been  ascribed  to  him." 

Jacob  was  very  different  from  both  his  father  and 
grandfather;  and  his  constitutional  tendencies  are 
plainly  disclosed  in  every  passage  of  his  history.  He 
was  a  plain  man,  and  to  this  extent  like  his  father,  that 
he  was  of  a  more  quiet  and  gentle  disposition  than  his 
brother,  content  with  the  home  of  his  parents'  tents, 
and  with  the  peaceful  occupations  of  a  shepherd's 
life.  Esau  was  a  man  of  impulse  and  impetuosity, 
who  spurned  the  home  pursuits  of  his  brother,  and 
betook  himself  to  the  fields  and  mountains  in  search 
of  adventure  and  of  game.  On  several  well-known 
occasions,  we  see  Jacob  seeking  and  attaining  his  pur- 
pose by  stealthy  and  subtle  management,  in  part  the 
result  of  the  partial  and  scheming  ambition  of  his 
mother,  but  indicating  no  doubt  a  constitutional 
tendency  of  his  own.  "Timid,  conceding,  and  while 
insignificant  in  respect  of  those  exterior  and  personal 
qualities  which  produce  an  immediate  impression 
wherever  they  are  beheld,  ambitious  nevertheless, 
desirous  of  a  higher  position  and  wider  influence  than 
seemed  to  be  within  his  reach,  and  determined  also 
by  some  means  to  obtain  them, — Jacob  is  disclosed 
to  us." 

The  constitutional  characters  of   these  three  men 


52  THE  soul's  work. 

thus  differed  much  the  one  from  the  other;  and  so, 
within  certain  limits,  did  their  religious  characters. 
That  they  were  partakers  of  a  common  faith  and  hope 
we  are  assured  on  apostolic  authority,  and  evidences 
of  it  pervade  the  history  of  their  lives.  Under  the 
guidance  of  the  "  God  of  glory,"  Abraham  was 
separated  from  an  idolatrous  household,  and  led,  from 
a  land  which  "  served  other  gods,"  into  the  homestead 
of  the  new  race  of  which  he  was  to  be  the  father. 
Wherever  he  settled,  and  for  however  brief  a  period, 
he  built  an  altar  to  Jehovah,  and  was  habitually 
conversant  with  things  unseen  and  eternal.  In  all 
this,  his  son  Isaac  was  in  full  sympathy  with  him. 
When  Abraham  was  called  to  offer  his  son  on  Mount 
Moriah,  the  younger  patriarch  must  have  concurred 
in  the  offering.  "  It  was  a  joint  testimony  of  their 
affiance  in  Him  in  whom  both  claimed  their  highest 
life."  The  devoutness  of  Isaac's  spirit  was  moreover 
indicated  by  what  we  may  conclude  were  its  habitual 
exercises  *'  in  the  field  at  eventide;"  and  we  know  that 
he  was  favoured  with  personal  communications  with 
the  God  of  his  father.  The  earlier  portion  of  Jacob's 
history  is  marred  by  faithful  details  of  personal  delin- 
quencies. But  from  the  memorable  night  when,  as  a 
fugitive  from  his  father's  house,  he  slept  on  a  stone 
pillow  at  Bethel,  until  the  hour  when  in  feeble  old 
age  he  foreshadowed  by  the  prophetic  spirit  the  his- 
tory of  his  twelve  sons  and  their  descendants,  many 
proofs  were  given  that  in  him,  as  in  other  patriarchs, 
devout  habits  and  heavenly  principles  were  habitually 
developed. 

But  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  purified  and 
ennobled  by  a  common  faith  and  hope,  were  not 
fashioned  in  one  mould,  and  reduced  or  raised  to  a 


THE    GLORY    OF    CHRIST.  53 

common  level.  Their  constitutional  differences  still 
remained  j  and  these,  along  with  the  circumstances  in 
which  they  were  placed,  determined  the  form  and  hue 
of  the  fruits  of  that  goodness  which  they  had  in  com- 
mon, and  which  distinguished  them  from  the  nations 
among  which  they  passed  their  pilgrimage. 

It  is  the  glory  of  our  Lord,  we  thus  see,  as  compared 
with  the  chiefest  of  his  servants — both  those  who 
lived  before  his  personal  advent,  and  those  who  lived 
after — that  "he  alone  stands  at  the  absolute  centre,  the 
one  completely  harmonious  man,  unfolding  all  that  was 
in  that  humanity  equalli/  upon  all  sides, /«%  upon  all 
sides,  the  only  one  in  whom  the  real  and  ideal  met, 
and  were  absolutely  one."  Even  Moses  and  Paul,  to 
whom  we  have  referred  as  examples  of  harmony  in 
character,  stand  at  a  great  distance  from  their  Lord. 
As  compared  with  him,  every  other  man  has  idiosyn- 
crasies ;  some  features  of  his  character  marked  more 
strongly  than  others;  fitnesses  for  one  task  rather 
than  another;  more  genial  powers  in  one  direction 
than  in  another.  The  three  chief  apostles  were  not 
exempted  from  this  law.  Their  characteristics  were 
not  dissolved  by  the  transformation  which  made 
them  one  in  Christ,  but  hallowed  to  the  work  they 
were  best  fitted  to  accomplish  in  the  church  of  God. 
As  mm,  Paul,  Peter,  and  John  were  very  differently 
constituted;  as  ai^ostles,  they  had  varied  and  dif- 
ferent functions  to  discharge ;  and  as  Christians^  their 
graces  were  exhibited  in  different  combinations  and 
forms.  But  amidst  variety  there  was  unity;  unity  in 
the  doctrines  which  they  preached,  unity  in  the  prin- 
ciples which  animated  their  hearts,  and  unity  in  the 
virtues  which   adorned    their  lives.     The  differences 

6* 


54  THE  soul's  work. 

between  them  were  only  differences  in  the  degree  in 
which  certain  graces  were  exhibited  in  their  characters, 
and  in  the  department  of  service  to  which  their  Master 
called  them. 

In  studying  the  varied  fruits  of  the  one  Christian 
principle  in  the  renewed  heart,  there  are  several  dan- 
gers to  which  we  are  exposed — either,  on  the  one  hand, 
the  danger  of  discouragement  in  not  attaining  the  cha- 
racteristic excellences  of  men  of  different  tempera- 
ments; or,  on  the  other,  that  of  self-satisfaction  in  the 
neglect  of  virtues  and  graces  on  the  ground  of  their 
being  foreign  from  our  constitutional  tendencies,  or  of 
their  being  of  minor  importance. 

Luther  could  not  have  been  what  he  was  but  for  the 
natural  endowments  with  which  he  was  gifted,  the 
training  which  he  received,  and  the  circumstances  in 
which  he  was  placed.  The  gentle  child  who  is  nursed 
in  the  bosom  of  an  affectionate  and  enlightened 
family,  and  who  is  sheltered  there  from  every  rude 
wind,  from  the  sins  and  the  persecutions  of  the  world, 
should  feel  no  discouragement  if  he  is  unconscious  of 
the  lion-like  qualities  of  the  great  Reformer.  Luther 
and  that  child  may  have  in  common  a  true  love  to  the 
Saviour,  and  may  produce  in  common  those  fruits  of 
love  to  Christ  which  their  respective  circumstances 
demand.  And  neither  should  covet  to  be  as  the 
other,  provided  only  that  each  is  fitted  for  his  own 
place  and  sphere.  The  oak  cannot  be  as  the  vine,  nor 
the  vine  as  the  oak;  but  the  one,  standing  in  its  own 
majesty  and  strength,  can  resist  the  storm ;  and 
the  other,  sheltered  from  the  storm,  and  sustained  by 
the  strength  of  some  friendly  support,  can  produce 
the  rich  and  nutritious  grape.     Both  are  pervaded  by 


OPPOSITE   DANGERS.  55 

a  common  life,  the  gift  of  their  Maker;  and  by  the 
virtue  of  that  common  life  they  perform  the  very 
diflferent  functions  for  which  they  are  severally  fitted. 
In  Holy  Scripture  there  are  what  have  well  been 
called  elastic  promises  :  "  As  thy  day,  so  shall  thy 
strength  be ;"  "  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee ;  my 
strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness/'  The  strength 
required  by  the  reformer  is  not  promised  to  the  child, 
but  to  each  is  secured  that  which  each  needs. 

While  some  are  discouraged  by  a  sense  of  their 
deficiency  in  the  characteristic  excellences  of  men  of 
other  temperaments  than  their  own,  others  are  apt  to 
rest  too  contentedly  under  a  sense  of  such  deficiency,  as 
if  those  duties  to  which  they  are,  or  imagine  them- 
selves to  be,  constitutionally  indisposed,  were  less 
binding  on  them.  This  involves  greater  danger  in  the 
opposite  direction.  Carry  out  this  notion  to  its  con- 
sequences, and  it  will  amount  to  this,  that  the  easier  a 
duty,  the  greater  its  obligation.  All  duties  are 
strictly  of  equal  obligation.  But  the  less  disposed  a 
man  is  naturally  to  a  particular  course  of  action  which 
it  is  his  duty  to  pursue,  the  greater  need  there  is  that 
he  should  exercise  diligence  and  painstaking  in  pro- 
moting his  own  advancement  therein.  AVhat  is  com- 
paratively easy  for  one  man,  may  be  comparatively 
difficult  for  another.  If  it  be  a  duty  in  both  cases, 
he  who  finds  it  most  difficult  is  bound,  instead  of 
neglecting  it  because  of  its  difficulty,  to  gird  himself 
with  the  greater  earnestness  to  its  accomplishment. 

It  is  with  Christian  character  as  it  is  in  sculpture 
and  painting,  very  much  of  its  beauty  depends  on 
little  things.  It  is  told  of  a  gentleman  who  had 
engaged  an  artist  to  execute  a  piece  of  sculpture  for 


56  THE  soul's  work. 

him,  that,  visiting  the  artist's  studio  after  an  absence 
of  several  weeks,  he  supposed  that  little  progress  had 
been  made.  '^  What  have  you  been  doing  ?"  he  asked. 
"  Working  on  this  figure,"  was  the  reply.  "  But  I  see 
nothing  done  since  my  last  visit."  "  Why/'  answered 
the  artist,  "  I  have  brought  out  this  muscle ;  I  have 
modified  this  part  of  the  dress ;  I  have  slightly 
changed  the  expression  of  the  lip."  "  But  these  are 
trifles,"  said  the  visitor.  "  True,  sir,"  replied  the 
artist,  "  but  perfection  is  made  up  of  trifles." 

The  Christian  contents  himself  too  often  with  an 
outline  of  Christian  character,  instead  of  caring  for  its 
details.  We  are  governed,  it  is  true, — and  the  truth 
is  important, — by  great  principles  rather  than  minute 
rules.  But  it  is  equally  true  that  the  Bible  por- 
traiture of  the  Christian  character  includes  in  it  most 
carefully  the  smaller  and  less  prominent  features,  as 
well  as  the  larger.  The  Bible  describes  the  Christian 
virtues  and  graces  with  great  minuteness,  and  says, 
'^  Think  on  these  things."  But  Christians  often  fail 
to  think  on  them ;  and  the  consequence  is  a  great  lack 
of  symmetry,  and  beauty,  and  completeness  in  their 
character. 

Much  of  the  beauty  of  Christ's  character  arose  from 
the  minuteness  and  comprehensiveness  with  which,  so 
to  speak,  its  parts  were  filled  in.  There  were  no  blank, 
spaces,  no  moral  vacancies  in  him.  He  was  altogether 
lovely.  "A  life  of  great  and  prodigious  exploits 
would  have  been  comparatively  an  easy  thing  for  him; 
but  to  cover  himself  with  beauty  and  glory  in  small 
things,  to  fill  and  adorn  every  little  human  occasion, 
so  as  to  make  it  divine,  this  was  a  work  of  skill  which 
no  mind  or  hand  was  equal  to  but  that  which  shaped 
the  atoms  of  the  world."     It  was  not,  however,  that  he 


ACTIONS   GREAT   AND    SMALL.  57 

laboured  to  make  up  by  outward  form  and  artificial 
details  for  the  want  of  inward  life  and  spirituality. 
Every  part  of  his  practical  living  was  the  outgrowth 
of  the  life  that  was  within.  And  thus,  by  giving  the 
most  varied  possible  embodiment  to  the  spiritual  life 
which  he  has  imparted  to  us,  *'  it  becometh  us,"  like 
him,  "to  fulfil  all  righteousness."  But  "the  act  of 
righteousness  which  we  should  select  as  most  worthy 
of  commendation  and  most  demonstrative  of  piety  of 
heart,"  to  use  the  words  of  the  Kev.  Henry  Melville, 
"may  not  be  that  on  which  the  Almighty  would  fix, 
when  signifying  the  approval  of  one  of  his  servants.  It 
may  rather  be,  that  some  sacrifice  which  the  world 
never  knew,  some  exertion  which  was  limited  to  his 
own  home,  and  perhaps  even  his  own  heart,  has  been 
the  most  approved  thing  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord,  of  all 
wrought  by  one  whose  time,  and  substance,  and  strength 
have  been  wholly  devoted  to  the  cause  of  religion.  It 
may  not  be  when,  like  Paul,  he  is  fighting  'with  beasts 
at  Ephesus;'  nor  when,  like  Stephen,  he  is  laying  down 
his  life  for  the  truth,  that  a  man  of  God  does  what 
specially  draws  on  him  the  smile  of  his  Maker.  There 
may  have  been  quiet  and  unobserved  moments,  mo- 
ments spent  in  solitude  and  prayer,  in  which  he  has 
fought  what  God  accounted  a  harder  battle  and  won  a 
nobler  victory.  And  in  the  arrangements  of  his  house- 
hold, in  meeting  some  domestic  trial,  in  subduing  some 
unruly  passion,  he  may  virtually  have  displayed  a 
stronger  trust,  and  a  simpler  preference  of  the  pro- 
mises of  the  Most  High,  than  when  he  stood  forth  as 
the  champion  and  confessor,  amid  all  the  excitement  of 
a  public  scene,  and  gained  for  himself  a  deathless  re- 
nown. 'The  Lord  seeth  not  as  man  seeth;'  and 
mightily  should  it  console  those  who  are  not  so  circum- 


58  THE  soul's  work. 

stanced  as  to  have  great  opportunity  of  making  efforts 
and  sacrifices  on  behalf  of  Christ  and  his  cause,  that  it 
is  not  necessarily  the  martyr  whose  self-surrender  is 
most  accepted  of  God,  nor  the  missionary  whose  labours 
and  endurances  are  most  held  in  remembrance;  but 
that  the  private  Christian,  in  his  struggles  with  himself, 
in  his  mortification  of  his  passions,  in  the  management 
of  his  family,  in  his  patience  under  daily  troubles,  in 
his  meek  longings  for  a  brighter  world,  may  be  yet 
dearer  to  his  Father  in  heaven,  and  be  thought  to  have 
shown  more  faith,  than  many  a  man  who  has  entered 
boldly  the  desert  of  heathenism  with  the  cross  in  his 
hand,  or  even  ascended  the  scaffold  to  seal  with  his 
blood  his  confession  of  Christ." 

Tn  Christian  character,  then,  let  it  be  a  first  principle 
that  there  is  nothing  ''  little,"  and  that  no  duty  can  be 
of  seconda?')/  obligation.  Constitutional  differences  will 
mould  and  modify  our  exhibition  of  the  graces  of  the 
Spirit;  but  they  afford  no  warrant  for  the  neglect  of 
any  of  them. 

Love  to  God  is  the  grand  principle,  we  have  seen, 
which  assimilates  the  Christian  to  his  great  Exemplar, 
the  root  from  which  spring  the  many  virtues  and  graces 
of  the  Christian  character.  How,  then,  is  this  love  to 
be  cultivated  ?  By  what  means  shall  it  be  nurtured 
and  strengthened?  All-important  question  !  There  are 
some  fundamental  principles  bearing  upon  it  which  we 
can  only  briefly  indicate. 

First  of  all,  it  is  necessary  that  we  should  know,  and, 
knowing,  should  study  and  contemplate  the  character 
of  God.  It  is  told  of  a  Roman  emperor  that  he  was 
wont  to  say  of  his  subjects — "  Let  them  hate  me,  so 
they  but  fear  me."     The  only  fear  that  was  possible  in 


HOW   TO   CULTIVATE   LOVE   TO   GOD.  59 

these  circumstances  was  the  trembling  dread  of  a  ruth- 
less and  vindictive  oppressor,  to  whose  ears  groans 
were  music.  But  let  this  tyrant  be  changed,  and  let 
his  change  of  heart  be  seen  in  a  change  of  government; 
let  him  become  just,  and  generous,  and  merciful,  "  the 
father  of  his  people;"  and  the  sentiments  of  his  sub- 
jects towards  him  will  change.  Love  will  take  the 
place  of  hatred  in  their  bosoms.  Instead  of  the  lower- 
ing gloom,  and  the  deep  secrecy,  and  the  suspicious 
evasions  of  that  "  fear  which  hath  torment,"  there  will 
be  the  open  frankness  of  confidence  and  the  unsus- 
pecting freedom  of  love.  Now,  if  men  think  of  God, 
as  the  Romans  had  too  much  reason  to  do  of  their 
oppressor,  or  as  the  heathen  have  always  done  of  their 
gods,  they  will  think  of  him  wrongly  and  falsely;  but 
the  efi'ect  will  be  the  same  :  they  cannot  love,  they 
can  only  hate  and  tremble. 

Let  a  father,  in  the  education  of  his  child,  adopt  the 
system  of  constraint  and  terror,  all  his  ends  effected 
by  command  and  coercion,  the  rod  for  ever  in  his 
hand,  the  sole  instrument  of  prevention  and  punish- 
ment; the  child,  in  such  a  case,  will  speedily  lose  all 
the  easy  freedom  and  open  artlessness  of  childhood. 
He  will  be  afraid  to  speak,  afraid  to  act,  afraid  to  look  ; 
timid,  jealous,  sullen,  cringing,  hypocritical,  kept  in 
incessant  awe  by  the  dread  of  passionate  scolding  or 
of  bodily  pain.  But  let  the  parent  change  his  principle, 
and  instead  of  the  system  of  passionate  and  severe  co- 
ercion, let  him  adopt  that  of  love.  Let  him  win  the 
affections  of  his  child  ;  let  him  gain  his  confidence  ;  let 
all  his  instructions,  and  reproofs,  and  chastisements  be 
mingled  with  the  meltings  of  fondness,  and  the  whole 
of  his  domestic  intercourse  be  characterized  by  smiling 
affection,  a  corresponding  change  may  be  looked  for 


60  THE    soul's    work. 

in  the  child.  For  a  time^  especially  if  the  opposite 
system  has  been  long  in  practice,  he  may  wonder,  and 
suspect,  and  hesitate,  and,  like  the  disciples  when  they 
saw  their  risen  Master,  "  believe  not  for  very  joy ;" 
but  as  soon  as  he  is  satisfied  that  the  alteration  is 
real,  his  heart  will  be  dispossessed  of  the  tormenting 
demon  of  fear  by  the  gentle  yet  mighty  energy  of 
filial  love.* 

In  God  as  a  Ruler  and  Father  there  is  all,  and  more 
than  all,  that  the  most  exalted  conceptions  of  these  re- 
lations can  imagine.  '^  Just/'  and  "  holy,"  and 
"  good,"  are  the  simple  terms  in  which  his  character 
is  set  forth — inflexibly  just,  spotlessly  holy,  ineffably 
good.  Words  utterly  fail  to  express  his  glory  as  a 
ruler  and  a  father.  But  men  have  wronged  him  fear- 
fully. They  have  conceived  of  him  and  felt  towards 
him  as  if  he  were  such  a  ruler  as  that  Roman  tyrant, 
and  such  a  father  as  this  we  have  described.  They 
have  trembled,  and  hated,  and  defied ;  they  have 
shunned,  and  distrusted,  and  disobeyed  him.  And  all 
this  they  have  done  under  false  impressions  of  his 
character.  Now  these  impressions  must  be  corrected. 
They  must  learn  his  true  character,  for  only  then  can 
they  love  him.  And  then  they  would  love  him,  but 
for  certain  evils,  more  difl&cult  to  overcome  than  igno- 
rance, inherent  in  their  state  and  condition  as  fallen 
sinners. 

And  this  introduces  us  to  another  fundamental 
principle  touching  the  means  by  which  love  to  God  is 
both  awakened  and  nurtured  in  the  human  soul.  The 
knowledge  of  the  glorious  holiness  of  the  divine  na- 
ture will  never  awaken  love  in  the  regions  of  the  lost. 

*  See  "  Sermons,"  by  Ralph  Wardlaw,  d.d  ,  pp.  319,  20. 


FUNDAMENTAL  PRINCIPLES.  61 

Nor  can  it  on  earth  unless  such  knowledge  be  accom- 
panied by  the  hope  of  forgiveness.  The  gospel  of 
Christ  combines  both,  and  hence  its  efficacy.  It  re- 
veals God  in  all  the  beauty  of  his  holiness ;  and  it 
opens  to  the  sinner  a  way  of  return  to  his  forgiving 
Father;  it  exhibits  God  as  a  just  God  and  a  Saviour, 
reconciling  men  to  himself,  and  with  the  outstretched 
arms  of  love  receiving  them  back  to  his  family.  And 
thus  are  the  rebellious  hearts  of  sinners  subdued  and 
melted.  With  penitential  sorrow  and  grateful  love 
they  are  constrained  to  give  themselves  to  God/^  "The 
blessed  light  in  which  the  Divine  Being  is  now  seen 
dispels  the  '  horror  of  great  darkness'  from  their  minds. 
The  blood  of  sprinkling  having  given  peace  to  the  con- 
science, and  the  freedom  of  grace  having  unchained 
the  spirit  from  the  fetters,  heavy  and  galling,  that 
bound  it  in  terror  and  weighed  it  down  to  despair, 
the  sinner,  exulting  in  his  newly  found  liberty,  'runs' 
with  gratitude  and  gladness  in  the  ways  of  God's 
commandments."  He  is  no  longer  a  rebel  but  a 
servant,  and  not  a  servant  merely,  but  a  son,  a  son 
who  in  "  the  spirit  of  adoption  "  trusts,  and  loves,  and 
obeys.* 

Nothing  but  faith  in  the  one  perfect  sacrifice  of 
Christ  will  enable  men  thus  to  draw  near  to  God. 
"  The  heathen  felt  this,"  says  Dean  Trench,  "and  all  his 
propitiations,  and  expiations,  and  placatory  offerings, 
were  dim  gropings  after  it.  The  Jew  felt  this,  and 
the  blood  of  bulls  and  of  goats  which  he  ofi"ered  was 
a  weak  prophecy  of  it.  The  Christian  feels  it,  and  the 
ofi"ering  of  the  body  of  Jesus  Christ,  once  for  all,  is 
the  perfect  fulfilling  of  this  longing.  All  have  alike 
felt  that  there  must  be  some  such  ground,  out  of  a 

*  See  this  subject  illustrated  by  examples  in  "The  Divine  Life,"  part  iv. 


62  THE   soul's  work. 

man's  self,  and  beyond  him,  on  which  he  must  rest. 
For  what  will  a  man's  mendings  of  himself  do,  as 
affording  the  materials  of  a  reconciliation  ?  When 
once  the  awful  vision  of  a  holy  God  has  flashed  upon 
his  soul,  never  again  to  be  put  by,  when  once  the  idea 
of  law,  and  of  the  transgression  of  a  law,  has  been 
revealed  unto  him,  and  (which  is  the  same  thing)  when 
once  the  abysmal  deeps  of  his  own  sinfulness  have 
yawned  beneath  his  feet,  how  idle  then  doth  every 
thing  of  his  own  appear  for  the  repairing  of  the  past, 
for  the  knitting  again  the  bands  of  the  broken  com- 
munion with  his  God  !  His  works  !  as  well  might  he 
seek  to  fill  a  bottomless  pit  with  pebbles  thrown  into 
it  one  by  one,  or  to  pay  off  at  one  end  a  debt  with 
pence,  which  was  accumulating  by  talents  at  the 
other.  His  works  !  he  cannot  so  far  lie  to  himself  as 
to  believe  that  they  can  be  better  than  the  source 
out  of  which  they  flow,  and  that  source  is  unhealed  as 
yet. 

"  Vain  is  it,  then,  for  a  man  to  seek  in  himself  the 
grounds  of  a  restored  and  renewed  intercourse  with 
his  God.  His  doings  and  his  strivings  leave  him 
where  he  was,  or  leave  him  further  off  than  before. 
His  sin  cleaves  to  him  still ;  and  all  his  efforts  to  dis- 
engage himself  from  it  serve  only  to  cause  it  to  cling 
to  him  the  closer :  it  is  to  him  as  the  poisoned  garment 
which  we  read  that  a  fabled  hero  in  an  evil  hour  had 
put  on,  and  then  strove  to  tear  away,  but  in  vain  :  he 
could  only  tear  away  his  own  flesh." 

The  fact  that  Christ  has  died  for  men  is  the  ground 
on  which  the  holy  God  is  propitious  to  the  guilty, 
and  pardons  and  saves  them ;  and  it  is  our  knowledge 
and  belief  of  this  fact  that  brings  peace  to  the  con- 
science, and  inspires    the   heart   with   filial   love    to 


FUNDAMENTAL   PRINCIPLES.  63 

God,  and  filial  confidence  in  him  as  our  Father  and 
Friend. 

These  principles  have  to  do  not  only  with  the  origi- 
nation of  love  to  God  in  the  heart,  but  with  its  growth 
and  permanence.  The  believer  in  Christ  continues  to 
be  subject,  like  other  men,  to  those  natural  laws  which 
regulate  the  movements  and  form  the  constitution  of 
the  human  mind.  And  it  is  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able of  these  laws,  that  all  passive  impressions  on  the 
mind  of  man  become  weaker  as  they  are  repeated,  and 
that  all  active  principles  are  strengthened  by  their 
exercise  in  action.  "  This  truth  applies  to  all  our 
affections,"  says  Joseph  John  Gurney,  "  and,  amongst 
others,  to  that  pure  afi"ection — love  towards  God, 
which  will  certainly  wither  in  the  soul,  unless  it  be 
cultivated  and  carried  forward  into  action.  That 
divine  grace,  by  which  our  love  to  God  is  maintained, 
operates  through  this  peculiar  law  of  our  nature :  by 
the  motive  of  love,  it  leads  the  soul  into  various  acts; 
and  by  these  acts  our  love  is  increased  and  confirmed." 
So  that  "  the  soul  of  the  believer  must  be  habituated 
to  action  :  it  must  maintain  a  steady  energy  towards 
the  sovereign  object  of  its  desire :  it  must  always  be 
moving  forwards  in  that  holy  way  which  leads  to  God, 
and  happiness,  and  heaven.  Then,  although  the  first 
blaze  of  fervour  which  often  distinguishes  the  new 
convert  may  subside  into  a  calm,  the  pure  affection  of 
love  to  God  will  be  settled  in  our  souls :  it  will  imbue 
and  characterize  our  new  nature:  with  a  perpetual 
increase  of  true  brightness  it  will  burn  for  ever." 

Love  to  God  will  be  exercised  and  strengthened  by 
active  obedience  to  every  part  of  the  will  of  God. 
Studying  that  will  carefully,  and  cultivating  "  a  con- 


64  THE  soul's  work. 

science  void  of  offence"  in  reference  both  to  its  prohi- 
bitions and  requirements,  the  principle  of  obedience 
will  be  stronger  and  stronger  till  it  possesses  all  the 
power  of  habit.  And,  "  while,''  to  use  the  words  of 
John  Foster,  "in  the  great  majority  of  things,  habit 
is  a  greater  plague  than  ever  aflflicted  Egypt,  in  reli- 
gious character  it  is  eminently  a  felicity.  The  devout 
man  exults  to  feel  that,  in  aid  of  the  simple  force  of 
the  divine  principles  within  him,  there  has  grown  by 
time  an  accessional  power,  which  has  almost  taken 
place  of  his  will,  and  holds  a  firm  though  quiet  domi- 
nation through  the  general  action  of  his  mind.  He 
feels  this  confirmed  habit  as  the  grasp  of  the  hand  of 
God,  which  will  never  let  him  go.  From  this  ad- 
vanced state  he  looks  with  confidence  on  futurity,  and 
says,  I  carry  the  indelible  mark  upon  me  that  I 
belong  to  God  :  by  being  devoted  to  him  I  am  free  of 
the  universe ;  and  I  am  ready  to  go  to  any  world  to 
which  he  shall  please  to  transmit  me,  certain  that 
everywhere,  in  height  or  depth,  he  will  acknowledge 
me  for  ever." 

Love  to  God  will  be  strengthened  by  contemplation 
as  well  as  by  obedience.  That  love  should  excite 
love  is  a  principle  which  our  Maker  has  interwoven 
with  our  very  nature.  "  We  love  God  because  he  first 
loved  us."  And  would  we  nurture  our  love  to  him 
we  must  contemplate  his  love  to  us.  It  is  while  with 
unveiled  face  we  behold,  as  in  a  glass,  the  brightness 
of  our  Lord's  glory,  we  are  ourselves  changed  into  the 
same  likeness.*  And  the  mirror  by  which  the  Lord's 
glory  is  most  clearly  reflected  upon  us  is  his  holy 
word-     The  rays  of  his  love  as  a  Creator,  as  a  Euler, 

*  2  Corinthians  iii.  18. 


DAILY    CLEANSING.  65 

and  as  a  Redeemer,  shine  most  brightly  in  this  history 
of  the  actual  doings  and  dealings  of  his  love  to  men. 
We  cannot  meditate  long  on  the  divine  attributes  as 
abstract  qualities;  but  we  need  never  cease  to  meditate 
on  them  as  we  see  them  at  work  and  in  action  in  his 
government  and  redemption  of  men.  And  hence 
much  of  the  transforming  and  purifying  power  which 
the  word  of  God,  as  we  shall  find,  has  ever  exercised 
over  those  who  have  communed  much  with  God  in  the 
devout  study  of  its  sacred  pages. 

Love  to  God  cannot  be  awakened  in  the  human 
heart,  we  have  seen,  by  the  mere  knowledge  of  his 
character :  there  must  be  the  hope  of  forgiveness 
through  the  atonement  of  the  Saviour.  And  this  prin- 
ciple, we  have  now  to  remark,  is  equally  essential  to 
the  continuance  and  growth  of  this  divine  affection. 
The  character  of  God,  once  known  and  appreciated, 
must  continue  to  be  studied  and  contemplated:  pardon 
and  peace,  once  received  through  faith  in  Christ,  must 
be  renewed  and  sustained  by  daily  application  to  the 
Saviour.  "  If  I  wash  thee  not,  thou  hast  no  part 
with  me,"  said  Christ  to  Peter.  Unwashed  by  Christ, 
the  sinner  is  unpardoned,  unsaved,  unfit  for  communion 
with  God.  But  "  he  that  is  washed  needeth  not  save 
to  wash  his  feet"  from  the  dust  he  has  gathered  by  the 
way ;  and  having  done  so  ''  he  is  clean  every  whit." 
The  outward  was  ever,  in  the  hands  of  Christ,  the  type 
of  the  inward.  The  Christian  is  "  washed,"  wholly 
washed,  when  he  looks  by  faith  to  the  Saviour  and  is 
recontjiled  to  God.  But  he  has  to  travel  over  the 
world's  dusty  road,  and  to  come  in  contact  with  the 
world's  defilement,  and  thus  needs  to  have  his  feet 
washed  daily.  And  only  by  the  constant  washing  of 
6* 


66  THE  soul's  work. 

the  feet  is  he  kept  clean.  Only  thus  is  his  conscience 
freed  from  the  daily  burden  of  sin,  and  his  confidence 
towards  God  maintained.  Only  thus  is  he  enabled  to 
run  with  perseverance  the  race  that  is  set  before  him. 

This  principle  is  verified  in  the  daily  experience  of 
Christians.  "  The  most  eff"ectual  inducement  to  obe- 
dience/' said  Professor  Halyburton,  "  is  a  constant 
improvement  of  the  blood  of  Christ  by  faith,  and  a 
sense  of  forgiveness  kept  up  in  the  soul."  The  biogra- 
pher of  the  Rev.  Edward, Bickersteth  says,  in  reference 
to  an  early  period  of  his  life,  ^'  Mr.  Bickersteth  had 
fully  received  the  doctrine  of  free  salvation  through 
Christ;  therefore,  though  cast  down,  he  was  not  in  de- 
spair; and  even  in  his  darkest  moments  he  saw  a  refuge 
still  open  to  receive  him;  but  his  eye  was  less  fixed  on 
the  work  the  Saviour  had  wrought  out  for  him,  than 
on  the  evidences,  often  imperfect  and  clouded,  of  the 
work  that  Saviour  was  accomplishing  in  him.  The 
aspect  of  truth  most  prominent  before  his  mind,  was, 
the  heart-searching  declaration  that  '  without  holiness 
no  man  can  see  the  Lord;'  and  he  had  not  that  full 
confidence  in  Christ's  pardoning  love  which  enabled 
him,  in  his  later  years,  to  cast  every  sin  at  the  foot  of 
the  cross,  and  then  to  press  forward,  undistracted  by 
fears  as  to  his  own  state,  to  more  abundant  labours  in 
his  Redeemer's  cause." 

The  same  truth  appears  frequently,  in  characteristic 
phrase,  in  the  diary  of  Dr.  Chalmers — as  thus  :  "  April 
20,  1840.  Began  my  first  waking  minutes  with  a  con- 
fident hold  on  Christ  as  my  Saviour."  "  April  21. 
Let  the  laying  hold  on  Christ  as  my  propitiation  be  the 
■unvarying  initial  act  of  every  morning."  There  are 
who  imagine  that,  once  justified,  Christians  have  no 
need  to  pray  for  pardon.    But  Christ  taught  those  who 


THE    HOLY    SPIRIT.  67 

approached  God  as  their  "  Father  in  heaven,"  as  often 
as  they  said  "  Give  us  our  daily  bread,"  to  say  likewise, 
*'  Forgive  us  our  trespasses ;"  and  nothing  can  be  more 
essential  to  the  happy  and  successful  prosecution  of  the 
Christian  life  than,  in  the  words  of  Dr.  Chalmers,  to 
let  the  laying  hold  of  Christ  as  their  propitiation  be 
the  initial  act  of  every  morning. 

There  is  a  third  fundamental  principle  that  should 
never  be  forgotten  in  the  cultivation  of  love  to  God, 
and  in  the  practice  of  those  graces  which  spring  from 
this  root.  It  is  the  dependence  of  the  soul  on  the 
continual  supply  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  "  Work  out 
your  own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling.  For  it  is 
God  which  worketh  in  you  both  to  will  and  to  do  of 
his  good  pleasure."  The  inward  life  of  our  Lord  him- 
self, sinless  as  he  was,  was  inspired  and  directed  by  the 
presence  and  operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  "  From 
the  beginning  to  the  end  of  his  earthly  course,  in  all 
the  various  circumstances  in  which  he  was  placed,  he 
was  the  subject  of  the  special  and  abundant  influence 
of  divine  grace.  With  a  consciousness  that  all  things 
were  in  his  power,  and  with  a  prompt  and  consecrated 
readiness  to  act  and  to  suffer  continually,  he  felt,  at  the 
same  time,  as  a  man,  entirely  dependent;  and  it  never 
occurred  to  him  that  he  had  anything,  or  that  he  could 
do  anything,  out  of  God.  From  God  operating  by  his 
Holy  Spirit  in  his  heart  he  received  all  wisdom  and 
all  strength.  '  Behold  my  servant  whom  I  uphold ; 
mine  elect  in  whom  my  soul  delighteth.  I  have  put 
my  Spirit  upon  him.'  "  How  much  more  do  they  need 
''  the  supply  of  the  Spirit  of  grace,"  who,  though  made 
new  creatures  in  Christ  Jesus,  have  still  to  contend 
with  "  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief !" 


68  THE  soul's  work. 

We  shall  now  look  at  some  specific  means  which 
have  been  or  may  be  used  for  the  cultivation  of  the 
spiritual  life. 

There  are  means  of  spiritual  improvement  which 
are  of  doubtful  tendency,  means  which  are  sanc- 
tioned by  some  of  the  highest  names  in  devotional 
literature,  but  which,  in  some  instances  at  least,  have 
done  more  harm  than  good.  Such,  for  example,  is  the 
species  of  express  and  written  covenant  with  God 
which  Dr.  Doddridge  recommends  in  the  seventeenth 
chapter  of  the  "  Rise  and  Progress  of  Religion  in  the 
Soul." 

As  to  the  duty  of  an  entire  and  unreserved  surrender 
of  ourselves  to  God,  there  can  be  no  question,  and  on 
this  point  the  author's  instructions  are  good,  and  his 
arguments  valid.  Nothing  can  be  more  reasonable 
than  that  we  should  acknowledge  God  as  our  Sovereign 
Ruler,  and  devote  ourselves  to  him  as  our  gracious 
Benefactor.  Nothing  can  be  more  apparently  equitable 
than  that  we,  the  product  of  his  power  and  the  pur- 
chase of  his  Son's  blood,  should  be  his,  and  his  for  ever. 
If  rightly  minded,  our  self-surrender  will  be  entire,  and 
cheerful,  and  immediate.  All  we  are,  and  all  we  have, 
and  all  we  can  do,  our  time,  our  possessions,  will  be 
devoted  to  him,  judging  that  we  are  then  in  the  truest 
and  noblest  sense  our  own  when  we  are  most  entirely 
his.  Dr.  Doddridge  recommends,  however,  not  only 
that  Christians  should  thus  give  themselves  to  God, 
but  that  they  should  likewise  "  expressly  declare  this 
purpose  in  the  divine  presence."  "  Such  solemnity 
in  the  manner  of  doing  it,"  he  argues,  "  is  very  reason- 
able in  the  nature  of  things;  and  sure  it  is  highly 
expedient  for  binding  to  the  Lord  such  a  treacherous 
heart  as  we  know  our  own  to  be.     It  will  be  pleasant 


WRITTEN   COVENANTS.  by 

to  reflect  upon  it  as  done  at  such  and  such  a  time,  and 
in  such  circumstances  of  place  and  method,  which  may 
serve  to  strike  the  memory  and  the  conscience.  The 
sense  of  the  vows  of  God  which  are  upon  you  will 
strengthen  you  in  an  hour  of  temptation ;  and  the 
recollection  may  also  encourage  your  humble  boldness 
and  freedom  in  applying  to  him  under  the  character 
and  relation  of  your  covenant  God  and  Father,  as 
future  exigencies  may  require."  "  I  would  further 
advise  and  urge/'  he  says,  "  that  this  dedication  may 
be  made  with  all  possible  solemnity.  Do  it  in  express 
words.  And  perhaps  it  may  be  in  many  cases  most 
expedient,  as  many  pious  divines  have  recommended, 
to  do  it  in  writing.  Set  your  hand  and  seal  to  it,  that 
on  such  a  day,  of  such  a  month  and  year,  and  at  such 
a  place,  on  full  consideration  and  serious  reflection, 
you  came  to  this  happy  resolution,  that,  whatever 
others  might  do,  you  would  serve  the  Lord." 

To  facilitate  compliance  with  this  recommendation, 
Dr.  Doddridge  supplies  two  forms  of  covenant,  or  of 
self-dedication,  to  be  adapted  to  the  circumstances  of 
the  person  who  adopts  them.  ''And  when,"  says  the 
author,  "  you  determine  to  execute  this  instrument, 
let  the  transaction  be  attended  with  some  more  than 
ordinary  religious  retirement.  Make  it,  if  you  con- 
veniently can,  a  day  of  secret  fasting  and  prayer. 
And  when  your  heart  is  prepared  with  a  becoming 
awe  of  the  divine  majesty,  with  an  humble  confidence 
in  his  goodness,  and  an  earnest  desire  of  his  favour, 
then  present  yourself  on  your  knees  before  God,  and 
read  it  over  deliberately  and  solemnly  ;  and  when  you 
have  signed  it,  lay  it  by  in  some  secure  place,  where 
you  may  review  it  whenever  you  please;  and  make  it 
a  rule  with  yourself  to  review  it,  if  possible,  at  certain 


70  THE    soul's   work. 

seasons   of  the   year,  that  you  may  keep  up  the  re- 
membrance of  it." 

The  sentiments  of  Dr.  Doddridge's  "  Examples  of 
Self-dedication"  are  devout.  But  the  benefits  of  the 
practice  which  he  recommends  are  very  questionahle. 
It  is  certain  that  in  the  experience  of  many  it  has  not 
promoted  hoUness  and  steadfastness,  but  has  engen- 
dered bondage.  The  remarks  of  Mr.  Newton  on  the 
subject  are  wise  and  moderate:  —  "Many  judicious 
persons,"  he  says,  '-have  differed  in  their  sentiments, 
with  respect  to  the  propriety  or  utility  of  such  written 
engagements.  They  are  usually  entered  into,  if  at 
all,  in  an  early  stage  of  profession,  when,  though  the 
heart  is  warm,  there  has  been  little  actual  experience 
of  its  deceitfulness.  Frequently,  the  young  convert, 
like  the  Israelites  when  they  saw  the  Egyptians  dead 
upon  the  shore  of  the  Red  Sea,  fondly  supposes  that 
his  warfare  is  at  an  end,  when  it  is  scarcely  begun. 
They  believed  in  the  Lord  and  sang  his  praises;  little 
apprehending  what  a  wilderness  was  before  them. 
Thus  in  the  day  when  the  Lord  turns  our  mourning 
into  joy,  and  speaks  peace,  by  the  blood  of  his  cross,  to 
the  conscience  burdened  with  guilt  and  fear,  resolu- 
tions are  formed,  which  though  honest  and  sincere, 
prove,  like  Peter's  promise  to  our  Lord,  too  weak  to 
withstand  the  force  of  subsequent  unforeseen  tempta- 
tions. Such  vows,  made  in  too  much  dependence 
upon  our  own  strength,  not  only  occasion  a  further 
discovery  of  our  weakness,  but  frequently  give  the 
enemy  advantage  to  terrify  and  distress  the  mind. 
Therefore  some  persons,  of  more  mature  experience, 
discountenance  the  practice  as  legal  and  improper. 
But  as  a  scaifold,  though  no  part  of  an  edifice,  and 
designed   to   be   taken    down    when    the   building   is 


RESOLUTIONS.  71 

finished,  is  yet  useful  for  a  time  in  carrying  on  the 
work,  so  many  young  converts  have  been  helped  by 
expedients  which,  when  their  judgments  are  more 
ripened,  and  their  faith  more  confirmed,  are  no  longer 
necessary.  Every  true  believer,  of  course,  ought  to 
devote  himself  to  the  service  of  the  Redeemer;  yea,  he 
must  and  will,  for  he  is  constrained  by  love.  He  will 
do  it  not  once  only,  but  daily.  And  many  who  have 
done  it  in  writing,  can  look  back  upon  the  transaction 
with  thankfulness  to  the  end  of  life ;  recollecting  it  as 
a  season  of  peculiar  solemnity  and  impression,  accom- 
panied with  emotions  of  heart,  neither  to  be  forgotten 
nor  recalled.'^ 

The  objection  which  is  taken  to  written  covenants 
may  be  taken  likewise  to  written  Resolutions  as  a 
means  of  spiritual  improvement  and  steadfastness. 
And  yet  examples  of  such  resolutions,  as  of  covenants, 
may  be  found  in  the  lives  of  some  of  the  holiest 
men. 

Before  Jonathan  Edwards  was  twenty  years  of  age 
he  had  written  a  series  of  Severity  Reso- 

^  Jonathan      Ed- 

lutions  for  the  regulation  of  his  heart  ^oa^.^diedfn^Tss! 
and  life.  They  are  prefaced  with  these 
words  :  "  Being  sensible  that  I  am  unable  to  do  any- 
thing without  God's  help,  I  do  humbly  entreat  him  by 
his  grace  to  enable  me  to  keep  these  resolutions,  so  far 
as  they  are  agreeable  to  his  will,  for  Christ's  sake.'' 
The  first  resolution  will  show  how  thoroughly  he  de- 
sired to  be  the  Lord's  : — 

"  1.  Resolved,  that  I  will  do  whatsoever  I  think  to 
be  most  to  the  glory  of  God  and  my  own  good,  profit, 
and  pleasure,  in  the  whole  of  my  duration ;  without 
any  consideration  of  the  time,  whether  now  or  never 


72  THE  soul's  work. 

so  many  myriads  of  ages  hence.  Resolved,  to  do  what- 
ever I  think  to  be  my  duty,  and  most  for  the  good  and 
advantage  of  mankind  in  general.  Kesolved,  so  to  do, 
whatever  difficulties  I  meet  with,  how  many  soever, 
and  how  great  soever." 

No  one  courted  singularity  less,  and  yet  if  he 
could  not  follow  the  Lord  wholly  without  being 
singular,  his  "  heart  was  fixed. '^  The  sixty-third  of 
liis  seventy  resolutions  is  as  follows :  "  On  the  sup- 
position that  there  never  was  to  be  but  one  in- 
dividual in  the  world,  at  any  one  time,  who  was 
properly  a  complete  Christian  in  all  respects  of  a 
right  stamp,  having  Christianity  always  shining  in 
its  true  lustre,  and  appearing  excellent  and  lovely, 
from  whatever  part  and  under  whatever  character 
viewed :  Resolved,  to  act  just  as  I  would  do  if  I 
strove  with  all  my  might  to  be  that  one  who  should 
live  in  my  time." 

Jonathan  Edwards  was  not  more  illustrious  for  his 
genius  than  for  his  piety.  He  occupies  a  high  place 
as  a  philosopher,  and  is  entitled  to  an  equally  high 
place  as  a  saint.  Few  men  have  more  entirely  lived 
as  "  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible.''  But  it  may  be 
doubted  how  far  his  Seventy  Resolutions,  as  such, 
contributed  to  this  blessed  end.  It  was  the  result 
rather  of  his  study  of  Holy  Scripture  and  his 
habits  of  prayer  and  of  self-examination.  These 
are  indicated  in  the  resolutions  themselves.  For 
example :  "  28.  Resolved,  to  study  the  Scriptures  so 
steadily,  constantly,  and  frequently,  as  that  I  may 
find,  and  plainly  perceive,  myself  to  grow  in  the  know- 
ledge of  the  same."  ^'  29.  Resolved,  never  to  count 
that  a  prayer,  nor  to  let  that  pass  as  a  prayer,  nor 
that  as  a  petition   of  a   prayer,   which    is   so   made 


SELF-EXAMINATION.  73 

that  I  cannot  hope  that  God  will  answer  it;  nor 
that  as  a  confession,  which  I  cannot  hope  God  will 
accept." 

Jonathan  Edwards's  "  Resolutions"  show  the  prin- 
ciples and  aims  which  constituted  the  foundation  of 
his  great  and  distinguished  excellence,  and  may  be 
studied  with  advantage  by  all  who  are  likeminded 
with  him.  But  it  may  be  questioned  whether  such 
resolutions  do  not  always  fetter  the  free  action  of  spi- 
ritual motives  over  the  soul.  That  they  usually  bur- 
den the  conscience  is  certain;  that  they  promote  stead- 
fast holiness  is  doubtful. 

The  piety  as  well  as  philanthropy  of  Joseph  John 
GuRNEY  is   well   known.     The    most 
remarkable  feature  of  his  private  me-  neyfbo/nm  ittsI 

J  ,  ,  ,  f,  died  in  1847. 

moranda  when  twenty  years  of  age, 
is  to  be  found,  according  to  his  biographer,  in  the 
anxiety  which  they  manifest,  that  while  study  is 
pursued  with  regularity  and  diligence,  the  culture  of 
the  heart  and  the  formation  of  moral  and  religious 
habits  may  ever  be  the  first  object  of  desire.  With 
this  view  we  find  him  accustomed  to  test  himself  by  a 
series  of  heart-searching  questions,  often  recording 
with  humiliation  a  variety  of  faults,  and  at  other  times 
thankfully  noting  apparent  improvement.  The  follow- 
ing will  illustrate  the  general  character  of  the  ques- 
tions. They  are  from  an  isolated  page  of  the  journal, 
headed  "  Qu^STiONES  Nocturne." 

"  Have  I  this  day  been  guarded  in  all  my  conversa- 
tion, saying  not  one  thing  inconsistent  with  truth, 
purity,  or  charity  ? 

"  Have  I  felt  love  towards  my  neighbour  ? 

"  Have  I  done  my  part  towards  my  own  family  ? 


t4  THE   soul's   work. 

"  Have  I  been  temperate  in  all  respects,  free  from 
unlawful  desires,  habits,  and  anxieties  ? 

"  Have  I  been  diligent  in  business  ?  Have  I  given 
full  time  to  effectual  study  ? 

"  Have  I  admitted  any  other  fear  than  that  of 
God? 

"  Have  I  passed  through  the  day  in  deep  humility, 
depending  constantly  upon,  and  earnestly  aspiring  after, 
divine  assistance  ? 

*^  And  have  I  in  everything  acted  to  the  best  of  my 
knowledge  according  to  the  will  of  God  ? 

*'  Have  I  worshipped  him  morning  and  evening?' 

"This  practice  of  self-examination,"  he  writes  in 
his  autobiography,  "  was,  I  think,  useful  to  me,  and 
afterwards  resulted  in  my  keeping  a  regular  journal, 
the  writing  of  a  perpetual  letter  to  myself  for  my 
own  private  use.  Thoroughly  as  I  am  aware  of  my 
own  deficiencies,  I  may  venture  warmly  to  recommend 
to  all  my  young  friends  the  two  practices  to  which  I 
thus  early  habituated  myself : — the  reading  of  the 
Scriptures  in  the  original  languages,  especially  the 
New  Testament,  and  the  keeping  of  a  private 
journal,  chiefly  with  a  view  to  close  self-examination 
before  Him  who  *  searcheth  the  reins  and  the  heart,' 
and  who  will  render  to  every  one  of  us  according 
to  our  works."  "  It  is  possible,"  his  biographer 
remarks,  "  that  in  the  early  stages  of  his  experience, 
there  may  have  been,  in  the  habitual  use  of  these 
questions,  somewhat  of  a  bondage  to  form  ;  but  the 
honest  diligence  and  earnestness  which  they  manifest 
are  highly  instructive." 

We  do  not  much  fear  any  "  bondage"  into  which 
such  honest  self-examinations  may  lead  an  enlightened 
soul.      Their  effect  will  doubtless  be   frequent  self- 


DIARIES.  75 

abasement  before  God.  But  if  the  humbled  spirit 
knows  how  to  look  for  the  sprinkling  of  atoning 
blood,  it  will  receive  peace  in  the  midst  of  its  humilia- 
tion, and  along  with  peace  a  fresh  stimulus  to  pursue 
the  onward  course.  In  order  to  these  self-examinings 
being  salutary,  however,  they  must  have  reference,  as 
in  the  case  of  Joseph  John  Gurney,  to  principle,  and 
to  the  practical  operation  of  principle  rather  than  to 
emotional  feeling. 

The  practice  of  recording  the  daily  vicissitudes  of 
Christian  experience  has  the  sanction  of  many 
eminent  men.  "  I  am  convinced,"  wrote  Henry 
Martyn,  "  that  Christian  experience  is  not  a  delusion  : 
whether  mine  is  so  or  not  will  be  seen  at  the  last 
day ;  and  my  object  in  making  this  journal  is  to 
accustom  myself  to  self-examination,  and  to  give  my 
experience  a  visible  form,  so  as  to  leave  a  stronger  im- 
pression on  the  memory,  and  thus  to  improve  my 
soul  in  holiness  :  for  the  review  of  such  a  lasting 
testimony  will  serve  the  double  purpose  of  conviction 
and  consolation." 

A  diary  written  wisely  for  these  ends,  or  as  recom- 
mended by  Samuel  Pearce,  can  scarcely  be  other  than 
beneficial.  "  Keep  a  diary ^^  he  wrote  to  a  young 
man  who  was  preparing  for  the  Christian  ministry. 
^'  Once  a  week  at  farthest,  call  yourself  to  an  account ; 
what  advances  you  have  made  in  your  different 
studies ;  in  divinity,  history,  languages,  natural  philo- 
sophy, style,  arrangement ;  and  amidst  all,  do  not 
forget  to  inquire.  Am  I  more  fit  to  serve  and  to  enjoy 
God  than  I  was  last  week  V 

But  diaries  degenerate  too  commonly  into  mere 
records  of  the  ever-varying  tides  of  feeling;  and  then 


76  THE  soul's  work. 

they  become  a  snare.  Frames  and  feelings  are  unduly 
magniJBed  until  they  seem  the  whole  or  the  more  im- 
portant part  of  Christian  experience,  and  are  mistaken 
for  those  affections  and  motives  which  are  the  true 
principles  of  action.  The  consequence  is  often  found 
to  be  a  species  of  spiritual  self-torture  which  produces 
no  fruits  of  holiness. 

As  a  general  rule,  it  will  probably  be  found  a  wiser 
plan  to  do  as  recommended  by  John  Foster  in  his 
essay  "  On  a  man's  writing  memoirs  of  himself/' — to 
review  one's  life  (we  should  say  periodically,  or  at 
least  frequently),  and  endeavour  not  so  much  to 
enumerate  the  mere  facts  and  events  of  life,  as  to  dis- 
criminate the  successive  states  of  the  mind,  and  so 
trace  the  progress  of  what  may  be  called  the  cha- 
racter. "  What  I  recommend,"  he  says,  "is  to  follow 
the  order  of  time,  and  reduce  your  recollections,  from 
the  earliest  period  to  the  present,  into  as  simple  a 
statement  and  explanation  as  you  can,  of  your  feelings, 
opinions,  and  habits,  and  of  the  principal  circum- 
stances through  each  stage  that  have  influenced  them, 
till  they  have  become  at  last  what  they  now  are. 
Whatever  tendencies  nature  may  justly  be  deemed 
to  have  imparted  in  the  first  instance,  you  would  prob- 
ably find  the  greater  part  of  the  moral  constitution  of 
your  being  composed  of  the  contributions  of  many 
years  and  events,  consolidated  by  degrees  into  what  we 
call  character ;  and,  by  investigating  the  progress  of 
the  accumulation,  you  would  be  assisted  to  judge  more 
clearly  how  far  the  materials  are  valuable,  the  mixture 
congruous,  and  the  whole  conformation  worthy  to  re- 
main unaltered." 

Such  a  review  of  the  continuous  formation  of  cha- 
racter, if  executed  faithfully  and  devoutly,  cannot  be 


MEANS  OF  Christ's  trogress.  77 

other  than  beneficial.  It  may  lead  to  the  discovery  of 
evil  influences  which  are  working  insidiously^  and  which 
are  imperceptibly  corrupting  and  undermining  the 
good.  It  may  stimulate  to  the  more  sedulous  use  of 
means  which  are  found  to  be  beneficial,  and  the  more 
earnest  cultivation  of  the  varied  graces  of  the  Spirit. 

There  are  specific  means  of  spiritual  progress,  ia 
reference  to  the  propriety  and  efficacy  of  which  no 
doubt  can  be  entertained.  And,  in  approaching  the 
consideration  of  these,  it  is  natural  to  inquire  whether 
any  trace  can  be  discovered  in  the  life  of  our  Great 
Exemplar  of  any  means  that  were  used  by  him  for  the 
promotion  of  his  spiritual  life,  or  which,  being  used  by 
him,  did  promote  his  spiritual  life.  AVe  do  not  forget 
that  he  never  needed  "  the  renewing  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.''  Born  sinless,  and  growing  up  sinless,  repent- 
ance and  conversion  could  form  no  part  of  his  expe- 
rience. But,  although  being  sinless  he  was  incapable  of 
regeneration,  we  have  seen  that  he  was  not  incapable 
of  progress.  And  it  may  be  affirmed,  at  the  least,  that 
his  increase  in  wisdom,  and  in  all  the  gifts  and  graces 
which  wisdom  includes,  was  simultaneous  with  the 
constant  study  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  and  the  con- 
stant practice  of  prayer.  And  we  are  not  too  bold  in 
adding  that  the  one  was  the  fruit  of  the  other. 

In  the  whole  tale  of  the  life  of  Christ  we  shall 
find  no  statement  more  mysterious  than  this,  "It 
came  to  pass  in  those  days,  that  Jesus  went  out 
into  a  mountain  to  pray,  and  continued  all  night 
in  prayer  to  God ;"  *  or  this,  "  Then  cometh  Jesus 
with  them  unto  a  place  called  Gethsemane,  and 
saith  unto  the  disciples,  Sit  ye  here,  while  I  go  and 

*  Luke  Ti.  12. 
7* 


78  THE  soul's  work. 

pray  yonder;"*  "And  he  was  withdrawn  from  them 
about  a  stone's  cast,  and  kneeled  down,  and  prayed."']' 
The  Son  of  God  on  his  knees !  It  is  the  most 
mysterious  position,  save  one,  in  which  he  was  ever 
seen.  Only  believe  him  to  be  the  Son  of  God,  and  the 
most  extraordinary  events  of  his  life  become  the  most 
natural.  Studying  the  Gospels  from  this  point  of  view, 
we  are  not  surprised  to  be  told  of  the  miraculous 
manner  of  his  birth.  We  are  not  surprised  to  hear  of 
his  turning  water  into  wine,  or  multiplying  a  few  loaves 
into  the  food  of  thousands.  We  are  not  surprised  to 
find  such  records  as  the  following: — "Great  multitudes 
came  unto  him,  having  with  them  those  that  were 
lame,  blind,  dumb,  maimed,  and  many  others,  and 
cast  them  down  at  Jesus'  feet ;  and  he  healed  them : 
insomuch  that  the  multitude  wondered,  when  they 
saw  the  dumb  to  speak,  the  maimed  to  be  whole, 
the  lame  to  walk,  and  the  blind  to  see  :  and  they 
glorified  the  God  of  Israel."J  "  The  multitude  won- 
dered," and,  looking  at  Jesus  as  they  did,  from  the 
human  side  of  his  character  alone,  well  they  might : 
by  the  confession  of  all,  "  it  was  never  so  seen  in 
Israel."  But  had  they  recognized  an  Incarnate  God, 
they  would  not  have  wondered.  The  incarnation  itself 
would  then  be  the  wonder ;  and  the  mighty  works  of 
the  Incarnate  One,  even  when  most  supernatural, 
would  be  held  to  be  most  natural.  That  the  dead 
should  obey  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God  and  live;  that 
winds  and  waves  should  be  subject  to  his  word ;  that 
the  spirits  of  hell  should  flee  from  the  presence  of  his 
majesty  and  purity ;  all  this  we  should  look  for  almost 
as  a  matter  of  course.     But  the  Son  of  God  in  poverty, 

*  Matthew  xxvi.  36.  f  I^ul^e  xxii.  41. 

X  Matthew  xy.  30,  31. 


CHRIST   IN   PRAYER.  79 

the  Son  of  G-od  in  sorrow,  the  Son  of  God  in  tears,  the 
Son  of  God  in  prayer — these  are  the  true  wonders  in 
the  life  of  Jesus  Christ.  And  of  these  the  last  is  per- 
haps the  greatest. 

We  feel  ourselves  at  once  in  a  region  of  mystery, 
when  we  think  of  the  Son  of  God  in  prayer.  The 
divine  and  the  human  in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ, — 
how  they  were  united,  in  what  relations  they  subsisted 
towards  each  other, — ''  without  controversy  "  great  is 
this  mystery.  And  the  difficulty  which  is  presented  to 
the  human  understanding,  whenever  it  dwells  upon  the 
twofold  nature  of  Christ,  is  never  brought  into  greater 
prominence  than  in  connection  with  the  fact  that  hu- 
man prayer  was  offered  by  him  who  thought  it  no  rob- 
bery to  be  equal  with  God.  But  let  us  not  be  guilty 
of  the  folly  of  attempting  to  solve  a  mystery  that  is 
confessedly  too  high  for  us,  or  of  the  folly  of  rejecting 
it  because  we  cannot  solve  it.  There  is  not  a  truer 
philosophy  than  that  which  says,  in  the  words  of  Dr. 
Watts, 

"  Where  reason  fails  with  all  her  powers, 
There  faith  prevails  and  love  adores." 

There  is  nothing  more  human  in  the  life  of  Christ  than 
prayer.  "  Prayer,'^  it  has  been  well  said,  "  differences 
man  from  the  creatures  below  and  from  the  creatures 
above  :  it  is  the  symbol  of  the  fact,  that  on  the  one 
hand  he  is  infinitely  higher  than  all  other  mundane 
works  of  God  j  and  that  he  has  been  made,  on  the  other, 
a  little  lower  than  the  angels."  So  that  the  prayers  of 
Jesus  Christ  are  a  proof  of  his  possessing  a  true  human 
nature.  If  Christ  truly  prayed,  then  was  he  truly  man. 
The  weakness  of  infancy,  and  his  growth  in  wisdom 
and  stature,  do  not  more  clearly  certify  the  humanity 
of  Christ,  than  do  the  prayers  of  his  riper  years. 


80  THE     soul's     work. 

It  is  true  that  in  connection  witli  some  of  his 
prayers,  and  in  the  very  language  of  others  of  them, 
the  rays  of  his  diviue  glory  shine  forth.  The  veil  is 
not  thick  enough  to  hide  the  brightness  of  the  majesty 
which  it  covers.  When  Jesus  was  '^  baptized,  and 
praying,  the  heaven  was  opened,  and  the  Holy  Ghost 
descended  in  a  bodily  shape  like  a  dove  upon  him,  and 
a  voice  came  from  heaven,  which  said,  Thou  art  my 
beloved  Son ;  in  thee  I  am  well  pleased.''*  In  this 
instance,  while  in  the  act  of  prayer,  there  was  given  a 
public  and  mysterious  recognition  of  him  as  the  well- 
beloved  Son,  the  only  begotten  of  the  Father.  In  the 
well-known  prayer  recorded  in  the  seventeenth  chap- 
ter of  John,  Christ's  very  words  are  illuminated,  so  to 
speak,  with  the  divine  glory.  While  as  a  man  he 
pleads  with  God,  yet  the  very  form  of  his  pleading  is 
instinct  with  the  consciousness  that  he  was  more  than 
man. 

But  there  are  prayers  of  our  Lord  in  which  the 
human  element  appears  alone  and  exclusively — those 
especially  that  were  offered  on  the  eve  of  his  betrayal, 
in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane.  There  he  "offered  up 
prayers  and  supplications  with  strong  crying  and  tears 
unto  Him  that  was  able  to  save  him  from  death. "f 
In  Gethsemane  we  have  a  true  man  in  mortal  conflict 
with  suffering  and  the  prospect  of  suffering,  constrained 
by  the  pressure  which  weighed  down  his  human  heart 
to  cry  for  exemption  from  the  bitter  cup,  and  yet  in 
this,  as  in  all  his  trials,  "  without  sin,"  submitting 
himself  to  the  will  of  his  Father. 

We  cannot  but  regard  those  long  seasons  of  devo- 
tion which  we  read  of  in  the  life  of  Christ,  as  means 
of  spiritual  strength  to  his  own  human  heart.     When 

*  Luke  iii.  21,  22.        f  Uobrews  v.  7. 


CHRIST   IN   PRAYER.  81 

"he  continued  all  night  in  prayer  to  God,"  many  of 
his  petitions  were  doubtless  the  petitions  of  the  Great 
High  Priest  on  behalf  of  his  ransomed  church.  And 
prayers  oflFered  on  the  mountain  side,  or  on  the  sea- 
shore of  Galilee,  may  still  be  drawing  down  blessings 
on  the  world.  But  his  protracted  seasons  of  devotion 
were  doubtless  equally,  if  not  chiefly,  seasons  of  per- 
sonal communion  with  his  Father  in  heaven.  His 
soul  could  not  live  without  such  communion.  The 
most  ardent  longings  of  the  regenerate  heart  after 
fellowship  with  the  Father  of  spirits  must  be  faint  as 
compared  with  the  longings  of  that  heart  which  needed 
no  regeneration ;  which  had  nothing  in  it  that  could 
clog  its  aspirations  upward,  or  blunt  its  sense  of  the 
attractions  which  drew  it  Godward.  Fellowship  with 
God  in  prayer  was  thus  a  necessity  of  his  pure  nature. 
But  not  a  necessity  merely.  It  was  a  means  of  his 
spiritual  progress  and  power.  God  gave  ''not  the 
Spirit  by  measure  unto  him."*  But  does  not  the 
analogy  of  faith  justify  us  in  believing  that  the  rich 
communications  of  the  Holy  Spirit  to  Jesus  Christ 
were  connected  with  his  prayers  ?  Is  not  this  one 
of  those  things  in  which  it  behoved  him  to  be  made 
like  unto  his  brethren  ? 

It  is  instructive  to  observe,  likewise,  that  Christ  is 
represented  as  giving  himself  to  special  prayer  in 
connection  with  the  various  emergencies  of  his  life 
and  the  various  stages  of  his  ministry.  Of  no  one 
could  it  ever  be  said  with  so  much  truth,  that  ''  all 
his  works  were  begun,  continued,  and  ended  in  God." 
His  piety  was  not  fitful,  but  habitual.  His  love  to 
his  Father  and  zeal  for  his  Father's  glory  were  not 
like  the  stream  of  the  desert,  now  swollen  by  winter 

*  John  iii.  34. 


82  THE  soul's  work. 

rains,  and  now  dried  up  by  summer  heats,  but  like  the 
mighty  river  whose  waters  flow  in  an  unfailing  volume. 
Never  had  he  to  confess  lukewarmness,  or  imperfec- 
tion, or  corrupt  taint  in  his  motives.  Never  did  he 
sink  into  a  spiritual  condition  that  should  unfit  him 
for  any  duty  or  for  any  emergency.  And  yet  when 
special  duty  called,  or  special  emergency  was  at  hand, 
we  find  that  he  gave  himself  to  special  prayer.  It 
was  so  before  the  choice  or  appointment  of  the 
apostles.  "And  it  came  to  pass  in  those  days,  that  he 
went  out  into  a  mountain  to  pray,  and  continued  all 
night  in  prayer  to  God.  And  when  it  was  day,  he 
called  unto  him  his  disciples  :  and  of  them  he  chose 
twelve,  whom  also  he  named  apostles."*  We  cannot 
suppose  that  these  two  facts  bore  no  relation  to  each 
other,  but  that  of  proximity  in  time.  The  selection  and 
appointment  of  apostles  to  be  his  ambassadors  to  the 
world,  and  to  lay  the  foundation  of  his  church  in  the 
earth,  was  an  act  of  the  highest  moment  to  his  glory  and 
to  the  future  destinies  of  the  world.  And  to  us  the  fact 
that,  in  anticipation  of  it,  the  Lord  from  heaven  retired 
to  the  solitude  of  a  mountain,  and  spent  a  whole  night 
in  prayer,  is  fraught  with  solemn  lessons.  The  Spirit 
which  rested  on  these  apostles  even  before  the  day  of 
Pentecost,  and  the  Spirit  which  descended  on  them 
more  abundantly  when  the  day  of  Pentecost  was  fully 
come,  the  successes  which  attended  both  their  earlier 
and  their  later  ministry,  the  faith  which  upheld  them 
in  times  of  temptation  and  of  persecution,  the  graces 
which  adorned  their  character,  the  gifts  with  which 
they  were  endowed — these  may  have  been  in  a  large 
measure  an  answer  to  the  prayers  of  those  solitary 
hours  of  the  night  which  preceded  their  appointment. 

*  Luke  vi.  12,  13. 


CHRIST    AND    THE    BIBLE.  83 

Like  Christ,  we  should  be  given  habitually  to  prayer. 
The  stream  of  our  devotion  should  flow  beside  the 
stream  of  our  activities;  or,  rather,  the  two  should 
commingle  their  waters.  But  at  the  same  time,  in 
every  occurrence,  in  every  doing,  in  every  suffering, 
that  stands  out  from  the  common-place  tenor  of  our 
life,  we  shall  only  be  following  Christ  if  we  turn 
aside  and  give  ourselves  to  special  prayer.  Whether 
the  occurrence  be  purely  personal,  or  whether  it  have 
relation  to  public  affairs,  the  example  of  the  Saviour 
instructs  us  to  withdraw  from  labour  and  action,  and 
give  ourselves  to  prayer.  At  the  throne  of  grace  we 
shall  obtain  the  wisdom  and  the  strength,  the  power 
and  the  love,  which  the  emergency,  whether  of  duty  or 
of  trial,  demands. 

Of  Christ's  early  devotion  to  that  word  which  his 
own  Spirit  in  the  prophets  had  long  before  inspired, 
we  have  evidence  in  the  only  recorded  incident  of  his 
life  as  a  child — his  interview  with  the  doctors  in  the 
temple;  and  in  the  history  of  his  temptation  in  the 
wilderness,  in  which  he  appealed  three  times  to  what 
"is  written"  in  one  of  the  books  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment. And  how  significant  is  the  fact  of  Christ's 
early  love  of  the  Bible,  and  his  early  communion 
with  its  facts  and  thoughts  !  This  is  the  book  in 
which  some  men  see  but  little  divine  glory,  whose 
revelations  partake  too  much  of  outwardness,  and  are 
cast  in  too  human  a  mould.  And  yet  this  is  probably 
the  only  book  that  ever  furnished  thought  to  the  pure 
mind  or  addressed  motive  to  the  pure  heart  of  the  Son 
of  God.  His  mother  did  as  the  book  itself  required  : 
"  These  words,  which  I  command  thee  this  day,  shall 
be  in  thine  heart:  and  thou  shalt  teach  them  diligently 
unto  thy  children,  and  shalt  talk  of  them  when  thou 


84  THE  soul's  work. 

sittest  in  thine  house,  and  when  thou  walkest  by 
the  way,  and  when  thou  liest  down,  and  when 
thou  risesfc  up."*  True  it  is  that  never  before 
or  since  had  human  mother  such  a  child  for  her  pupil. 
But,  wonderful  as  he  was,  he  sat  at  the  feet  of  that 
human  mother,  and  heard  from  her  lips  the  words  of 
the  law  of  her  God,  and  was  taught  by  her  to  unroll 
for  himself  the  blessed  volume,  and  trace  its  precious 
lines.  From  this  book  the  child,  the  boy,  drew 
spiritual  nourishment,  and  increased  in  wisdom;  and 
the  man  still  loved  the  book  on  which  the  boy  had 
fed. 

Admit,  then,  that  the  constant  study  of  the  holy 
Scriptures  and  the  constant  habit  of  prayer  were 
simultaneous  with  the  progress  of  the  sinless  Jesus, 
and  why  should  we  hesitate  to  believe  that  they  were 
the  means  of  that  progress,  and  that  in  this,  made 
like  unto  his  brethren,  he  has  taught  us  how  we  may 
obtain  spiritual  strength  and  make  spiritual  advance- 
ment in  gift  and  grace  ? 

Christ's  Bible  was  the  Old  Testament;  and  if  his 
pure  mind  found  nourishment  and  strength  there, 
much  more  may  we.  As  a  book  of  devotion  and 
experimental  piety,  it  is  most  precious.  '*  "Where 
shall  we  find  such  noble  examples  of  a  faith  which  no 
difficulties  could  overcome ;  of  a  hope  which  no  disaster 
could  quench,  no  delays  enfeeble;  of  a  delight  in  God 
and  God's  service,  which  cast  all  other  joys  into  the 
shade;  and  of  a  serene,  abiding  religiousness,  which 
looked  at  all  things  on  their  Godward  side,  and  kept 
the  mind  that  was  stayed  on  God  in  perfect  peace 
amid  all  the  tumults,  and  griefs,  and  shadows  of  time? 

*  Deuteronomy  ti.  6, 7. 


HAVELOCK.  85 

It  makes  one's  heart  strong  to  study  them.  It  breaks 
up  the  sybarite  effeminacy  which,  in  seasons  of  tran- 
quillity, is  apt  to  invest  our  religious  being,  and  it 
stirs  us  up  to  quit  us  like  men  in  the  never-ceasing 
spiritual  warfare,  to  read  how  these  men  of  the  old 
time,  amid  the  twilight  of  their  dispensation,  strength- 
ened each  other  and  themselves  in  the  Lord,  and 
fought  their  way  through  to  ^  the  city  which  hath 
foundations,'  where  they  now  rest  and  reign.  Most 
certain  is  it  that,  in  all  times  of  peculiar  danger  or 
darkness,  it  is  to  these  ancient  Scriptures  that  the 
church  instinctively  turns  for  consolation  and  for 
vigour.  Most  certain  is  it  that  all  men  of  strong 
and  deep  minds  find  a  peculiar  pleasure  in  the  perusal 
of  these  writings,  and  acknowledge  in  them  something 
to  which  their  own  souls  cling  with  a  vivid  sympathy. 
Most  certain  is  it  that,  of  those  who  have  borne  or 
achieved  great  things  for  the  cause  of  God,  the  greater 
part  were  wont  to  feed  their  spiritual  energies  at  the 
banquet  which  these  provide.  It  is  not  safe  to  neglect 
such  experiences.  If  we  do,  we  may  soon  find  nothing 
left  to  us  but  to  mourn  over  the  days  that  are  gone, 
and  say,  '  Our  silver  is  become  dross,  our  wine  is  mixed 
with  water.' "  ■« 

Were  the  secret  history  of  illustrious  Christians 
brought  to  light,  we  should  find,  probably  without 
exception,  not  only  that  the  word  of  God  occupied 
a  large  place  in  their  regard,  but  that  it  was  the  especial 
means  of  grace  which  they  used  and  prized.  On  the 
announcement  of  the  death  of  General  Havelock,  the 
following  communication  was  made  to  a  public  journal: 
— ''  It  may  interest  your  readers  to  be  told  that,  even 
on  such  arduous  service  as  the  Affghan  campaign  and 
8 


86  THE   soul's  work. 

the  siege  of  Jellalabad,  Havelock  invariably  secured 
two  hours  in  the  morning  for  reading  the  Scriptures 
and  for  private  prayer.  If  the  march  began  at  six,  he 
rose  at  four;  if  at  four,  he  rose  at  two.  Is  it  any 
wonder  that  he  was  raised  up  as  a  deliverer  of  our 
people,  almost  like  one  of  the  judges  of  Israel  ?"  And 
we  may  add,  is  it  any  wonder  that,  in  circumstances 
the  most  adverse  and  trying  to  Christian  principle  and 
holiness,  he  was  enabled  to  adorn  the  doctrine  of  God 
his  Saviour,  and  constrain  men  to  reverence  a  faith 
which  they  did  not  love  ? 

A  hundred  years  before  the  days  of  Havelock, 
another  brave  soldier  preserved  and  promoted  his 
spiritual  life  by  means  remarkably  similar.  The  cir- 
cumstances which  attended  the  conversion  of  Colonel 
Gardiner,  and  the  decisiveness  of  the  change  itself,  are 
better  known  than  the  beauty  and  completeness  of 
the  Christian  character  which  he  afterwards  attained. 
For  a  considerable  time  after  his  conversion.  Colonel 
Gardiner  felt  the  deep  emphasis  of  those  well-chosen 
words  in  which  the  apostle  Paul  ranks  the  trial  of 
cruel  mockings  with  scourgings  and  bonds  and  impri- 
sonments. "  I  ^m  obliged  to  dispute  every  inch  of 
the  ground,"  he  wrote  to  the  pious  mother,  whose 
heart  had  often  been  wrung  by  his  wicked  courses,  but 
was  now  filled  with  gratitude  and  joy;  ^'  but,  all  thanks 
and  praise  to  the  great  Captain  of  my  salvation,  he 
fights  for  me ;  and  then  it  is  no  wonder  that  I  come 
ofi"  more  than  conqueror." 

The  secret  of  his  steadfastness,  of  his  rapid  progress, 
and  of  his  high  attainments,  is  to  be  found  in  the 
habits  of  devotion  and  of  Bible  reading  which  he 
formed  at  the  commencement  of  his  religious  history, 


SARAH   MARTIN   AND   THE   BIBLE.  87 

and  which  he  continued  throughout  life.  It  was  his 
custom  to  rise  at  four  in  the  morning,  and  to  spend 
two  hours  in  reading,  meditation,  and  prayer.  If  at 
any  time  he  was  obliged  to  go  out  before  six  in  the 
morning,  he  rose  proportionably  earlier;  so  that  when 
a  journey  or  a  march  required  him  to  be  on  horseback 
by  four,  he  would  be  at  his  devotions  at  furthest  by 
two.  And  to  those  resolute  habits  of  self-denial  may 
well  be  ascribed  his  growth  in  grace. 

Sarah  Martin,  the  humble  seamstress,  who  has  so 
worthily  acquired  the  title  of  "  the  Yarmouth  philan- 
thropist,^^ hated  no  book  as  she  hated  the  Bible,  before 
her  conversion  to  God.  She  hated  it  partly  because 
she  feared  it.  If  a  ray  of  gospel  light  came  across  her 
mind  in  any  way,  she  turned  from  it,  she  says,  as  from 
a  reptile.  The  Bible  in  the  hands  of  her  grandmother 
was  a  daily  terror  to  her.  Two  Bibles,  which  had 
been  her  mother's,  she  removed  from  their  place 
and  hid,  that  they  might  not  meet  her  eyes ;  and  this 
she  did  with  the  idea  that,  should  the  Bible  after  all 
prove  true,  the  less  she  knew  of  it  the  better  it  would 
be  for  her.  But  in  proportion  to  this  aversion  to  the 
Bible  was  her  after-love  to  it.  It  was  the  great  foun- 
tain of  her  knowledge  and  of  her  power.  For  many 
years  she  read  it  through  five  times  every  year ; 
and  she  formed  a  most  exact  reference-book  to  its 
contents.  Her  intimate  familiarity  with  its  striking 
imagery  and  lofty  diction  impressed  a  poetical  character 
upon  her  own  style,  and  filled  her  mind  with  exalted 
thoughts. 

Above  all,  she  applied  its  truths  and  lessons  to  her- 
self, and  that  in  a  manner  worthy  of  universal  imitation. 
"  The  advantage  of  resorting  to  the  Bible,  in  circum- 


88  THE  soul's  work. 

stances  of  trial  or  difficulty,  for  minute  direction  and 
sure  guidance  has  been/'  she  wrote,  ''  as-  life  against 
death  to  me.  And  oft,  when  my  strong  impetuosity 
of  feeling  and  my  impatience  before  God  have  arisen 
before  an  evil,  when  anger  would  have  assumed  the 
place  of  patient,  enduring  love,  and  when  my  own  sins 
before  God  became  greater  than  that  which  was  to  be 
deplored  and  reproved  by  me  in  another,  then  this 
divine  and  perfect  book,  whilst  it  supplied  and  still 
supplies  correction,  ever  told  of  mercy.''  To  one  who 
complained,  *'  I  make  no  progress  in  my  Christian 
course,"  she  replied,  "  Take  your  Bible  on  your  knees, 
plough  into  it,  and  you  will  not  stand  still," 

One  of  the  first  effects  of  the  conversion  of  Thomas 
Chalmers  was  his  regular  and  earnest  study  of  the 
Bible.  An  old  and  privileged  friend,  visiting  him 
before  the  great  change,  said  to  him  on  one  occasion, 
"I  find  you  aye  busy,  sir,  with  one  thing  or  another; 
but,  come  when  I  may,  I  never  find  you  at  your  stu- 
dies for  the  Sabbath."  "  Oh  !  an  hour  or  two  on  the 
Saturday  evening  is  quite  enough  for  that,"  was  the 
answer.  But  when  Chalmers's  heart  was  turned  to 
God,  this  old  friend  often  found  him  poring  eagerly 
over  the  pages  of  the  Bible.  The  difi'erence  was  too 
striking  to  escape  notice,  and  his  friend  remarked,  "  I 
never  come  in  now,  sir,  but  I  find  you  aye  at  your 
Bible  !"  '^  All  too  little,  John,  all  too  little,"  was  the 
significant  reply. 

From  the  beginning  of  his  religious  course,  Mr. 
Chalmers  was  sensitively  afraid,  we  are  told  by  his 
biographer,  lest  the  truth,  as  God  had  revealed  it, 
should  come  to  him  distorted  or  mutilated,  because 
coming  in  the  form  in   which  it  was  presented  by 


THE   BIBLE   A   BOOK   OP   THOUGHT.  89 

human  systems  or  in  theological  controversies.  "The 
primary  and  most  earnest  effort  was  to  derive  his 
Christianity  immediately  from  the  Divine  Oracles,  to 
lay  his  whole  being  broadly  open,  to  take  off  from  the 
sacred  page  the  exact  and  the  full  impression  of  divine 
truth  in  the  very  forms  and  proportions  in  which  it 
was  there  set  forth.''  His  correspondence  and  journals 
bear  ample  testimony  to  this  fact. 

"  If  we  ask  what  most  characterizes  the  Scriptures," 
says  Mr.  Douglas  of  Cavers,  "it  is  thought.  As 
the  Bible  is  the  book  of  books,  so  its  contents  are  the 
thought  of  thoughts,  demanding,  provoking,  supplying 
thought  without  end.  Such  we  might  well  suppose 
to  be  its  character,  considering  its  Author.  God  is  a 
Spirit;  and  thought  is  the  action  of  spirit,  and  the 
purest  product  of  mind.  But  thought  is  a  high 
exercise  3  painful  to  our  low  and  earthly  faculties,  and 
readily  dispensed  with  where  not  absolutely  necessary. 
And  hence  men  favour  classes  who  think  for  them, 
both  with  respect  to  their  temporal  and  spiritual 
affairs.  And  hence  religious  writings  are  more  read 
than  the  Scriptures  themselves,  because  here  the  effort 
has  been  surmounted  by  others;  the  thoughts  are 
already  expanded,  and  the  feelings  educed  which  the 
meditations  upon  passages  of  Scripture  were  suited  to 
inspire.  It  is  true,  the  feelings  which  are  merely  the 
reflection  of  the  feelings  of  others  are  not  so  valuable 
as  the  original  impressions;  and  nothing  can  com- 
pensate for  the  painful  but  salutary  effort  of  evolving 
truth  for  ourselves.  Still,  the  union  of  thinking  for 
ourselves,  and  profiting  by  the  thoughts  of  others, 
will  jointly  produce  the  most  profitable  results; 
and  they  who  meditate   mostly  upon   the  Bible  will 

8* 


90  THE    soul's    work. 

most  value   and   best   appreciate   the  meditations  of 
others." 

At  the  same  time  it  is,  and  will  for  ever  remain 
true,  that  they  who  "meditate  most  upon  the  Bible" 
will  be  the  highest,  holiest,  devoutest  class  of 
Christians.  It  is  said  that  if  a  grape-vine  be  planted 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  a  well,  its  roots,  running 
secretly  underground,  wreathe  themselves  in  a  net- 
work around  the  cold,  clear  waters;  and  the  vine's 
putting  on  outward  greenness  and  unwonted  clusters 
and  fruit,  is  all  that  tells  where  every  root  and  fibre  of 
its  being  has  been  silently  stealing.  Even  such  is  the 
fruitfulness  of  those  who  are  in  constant  spiritual 
communion  with  the  fountain  of  life.  "Blessed  is  the 
man 

Whose  delight  is  in  the  law  of  the  Lord ; 

And  in  his  law  doth  meditate  day  and  night. 

He  shall  be  like  a  tree  planted  by  the  rivers  of  water, 

That  bringeth  forth  his  fruit  in  his  season : 

His  leaf  also  shall  not  wither ; 

And  whatsoever  he  doeth  shall  prosper." 

The  Bev.  George  Wagner  presents  a  beautiful 
Geor  ewa  ner-  ^^^^^P^^  ^f  the  Commingling  of  prayer 
i8r8;dfed'Feb.io:  with  all  the  duties  and  occupations  of 
life.  On  the  approach  of  his  first  great 
college  examination  at  Cambridge,  in  1839,  we  find 
him  expressing  a  holy  jealousy  over  his  heart  in  these 
words  : — "  My  mind  is  in  a  frightfully  nervous  state, 
thinking  of  examinations  and  the  attainment  of 
human  learning,  instead  of  being  calm  and  composed, 
and  resting  upon  Jesus."  Again  : — "  Much  spiritual 
blindness :  I  fear  that  reading  for  examination  is  a 
very  deadening  thing.  But  I  hope,  by  the  grace  of 
God,  that  I  shall  soon  be  raised  from  this  sorrowful 
state,  and  delivered  from  so  great  temptations;  and  be 


GEORGE   WAGNER   AND   PRAYER.  91 

enabled  to  worship  God  in  an  humble  and  quiet 
spirit." 

The  examination  came;  and  beautiful  was  the  pre- 
paration of  heart  with  which  this  devoted  Christiaa 
student  entered  upon  what  he  felt  at  once  to  be  a  duty 
and  a  snare.  "  Got  up  at  half-past  five,  dressed,  read 
the  Bible,  and  prayed  until  seven.  Went  to  chapel, 
and  enjoyed  it  more  than  usual.  After  chapel,  prayed 
and  read  the  Bible  until  eight.  Bead  Euclid,  and 
went  in  to  the  examination  in  a  confused  state.  This 
is  the  first  day.  Have  not  done  well ;  my  body  has 
not  been  well,  and  there  is  every  sign  of  breaking 
down  before  it  is  over.  Prayed  before  and  after  din- 
ner. This  evening  my  mind  jaded.  Lord,  pardon 
my  manifold  infirmities,  and  grant  that  I  may  do  all 
things  to  thy  glory.  By  the  tender  mercy  of  God, 
have  not  suffered  much  from  ambition.  Shall  be  thank- 
ful when  it  is  over.  Lord,  grant  that  my  mind  may  be 
stayed  upon  thee,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake.     Amen." 

And  again  a  few  days  after  : — '^  My  mind  far  too 
much  occupied  with  this  examination.  Prayed  before 
and  after  dinner.  .  .  .  This  evening  my  mind  dread- 
fully distracted.  My  private  tutor  has  just  been  in, 
talking  about  algebra.  How  happy  shall  I  be  when 
all  is  over !  How  trifling  are  these  things  of  time 
compared  with  eternity ;  and  yet  how  the  mind  dwells 
on  them  and  magnifies  them  !  Lord,  graciously  look 
down  upon  me,  and  purify  and  make  me  holy,  for 
JesiK  Christ's  sake.     Amen." 

His  life  at  home  was  governed  by  the  same  strict 
rules  as  those  which  he  imposed  on  himself  at  college. 
He  resolutely  maintained  the  practice  of  early  rising, 
as  early  as  five  o'clock  when  circumstances  allowed  it; 
and  the  time  thus  redeemed  he  consecrated  to  prayer 


92  THE  soul's  work. 

and  the  study  of  the  Bible.  "  I  ought  to  secure  two 
hours  at  least  for  these  purposes/'  he  says,  "  before 
my  day  begins."  And  as  the  day  began,  so  it  con- 
tinued. "  Pray  always  jive  times  a  day,"  is  the  reso- 
lution he  records,  "at  regular  times,  besides  when 
moved  to  it." 

What  is  called  "  ejaculatory  prayer"  will  be  found  of 
great  spiritual  benefit.  "  If  prayer  is  the  breath  of 
the  spiritual  life,"  says  the  author  of  "  Preces  Pau- 
lina?," "  then  it  follows  that  our  devotional  acts 
should  be  of  almost  momently  recurrence,  and  not 
long-drawn  respirations  to  be  followed  by  a  deathly  or 
trance-like  stillness."  We  have  indeed  at  stated  times 
to  climb  the  mount  of  communion,  and  there  inhale 
the  refreshing  breezes  of  a  purer  atmosphere ;  but  as 
we  tread  our  pathway  through  the  vale  of  ordinary 
duty,  we  must  be  ever  breathing  out  our  desires,  and 
drawing  in  our  needed  supplies  of  grace.  We 
may  not  limit  ourselves  to  ejaculatory  petitions,  but 
neither  may  we  neglect  them.  Our  more  prolonged 
devotions  are  necessary  to  the  life  of  our  soul ;  but 
that  life  will  manifest  itself  in  our  briefer  suppli- 
cations, our  more  cursory  entreaties  for  pardon  and 
guidance. 

"  These  form  the  links  of  an  electric  chain, 
That  join  the  orisons  of  morn  and  eve, 
And  propagate  through  all  its  several  parts, 
While  kept  continuous,  the  ethereal  fire." 

"  To  me,"  says  Dr.  Pye  Smith,  "  it  appears  that  the 
grand  means  of  maintaining  happy  cheerfulness,  in 
union  with  that  penitent  humiliation  which  we  should 
ever  preserve,  is  the  habit  of  early  but  prompt  inter- 
course with  God  through  the  divine  Mediator,  by 
thought  and  ejaculation,  rejoicing  in  God  through  our 


THE   RIGHT   USE   OP   THE   SABBATH.  93 

Lord  Jesus   Christ,  by  whom  we  have  received    the 
atonement." 

The  importance  of  the  right  use  of  the  Sabbath,  and 
of  the  appointed  ordinances  of  religion,  as  means 
of  spiritual  strength  and  progress,  is  too  obvious  to 
need  much  remark.  Some  indeed  are  disposed  to 
plead  the  hahitual  cultivation  of  piety  as  au  apology 
for  lowering  the  Sabbath  to  the  level  of  other  days. 
But  such  persons  do  not  understand  either  the  urgen- 
cies of  their  own  hearts,  or  the  wisdom  of  God  in 
making  provision  for  them.  The  testimony  of  Sir 
Matthew  Hale,  William  Wilberforce,  and  others,  to 
the  value  of  the  Christian  Sabbath  as  a  means  of 
grace,  has  been  often  quoted.  These  good  men 
guarded  this  blessed  institution  sacredly  from  the 
intrusion  of  the  world  and  of  politics,  and  found  in  it 
a  fountain  of  spiritual  refreshment  and  mental  invigo- 
ration.  Of  Henry  Martyn,  whose  employments  were 
all  in  a  sense  spiritual,  and  who  might  therefore  be 
regarded  as  less  dependent  on  Sabbath  privileges,  his 
biographer  says  :  "  The  Sabbath,  that  sacred  portion 
of  time  set  apart  for  holy  purposes  in  paradise 
itself,  was  so  employed  by  him  as  to  prove  frequently 
a  paradise  to  his  soul  on  earth  -,  and  as  certainly  pre- 
pared him  for  an  endless  state  of  spiritual  enjoyment 
hereafter." 

In  the  Christian  life,  "what  God  hath  joined  to- 
gether, let  no  man  put  asunder."  He  has  "joined" 
truth  and  love,  law  and  freedom ;  but  men  often 
"  put  them  asunder."  Truth,  without  love,  is  "  dead, 
being  alone ;"  love,  without  truth,  is  mere  worthless 
sentiment.  Law,  obeyed  without  that  spirit  of  freedom 


94  THE  soul's  WOUK. 

which  pardoning  mercy  imparts,  is  bondage;  a  free- 
dom that  shall  be  independent  of  law  degenerates  into 
self-will  and  license. 

In  his  early  spiritual  struggles,  John  Wesley  re- 
sorted to  the  mystic  writers,  ''  whose  noble  descrip- 
tions of  union  with  God  and  of  internal  religion,*'  he 
says,  "  made  everything  else  appear  mean,  flat,  and 
insipid.  But,  in  truth,  they  made  good  works  appear 
so  too,  yea,  and  faith  itself;  and  what  not?  These 
gave  me,"  he  says,  "  an  entire  new  view  of  religion,  no- 
thing like  any  I  had  before.  But,  alas !  it  was  nothing 
like  that  religion  which  Christ  and  his  apostles  lived 
and  taught.  I  had  a  plenary  dispensation  from  all 
the  commands  of  God;  the  form  ran  thus:  'Love  is 
all;  all  the  commands  besides  are  only  means  of  love;  ■ 
you  must  choose  those  which  you  feel  are  means  to  you, 
and  use  them  as  long  as  they  are  so.'  Thus  were  all 
the  bands  burst  at  once.  And  though  I  could  never 
fully  come  into  this,  nor  contentedly  omit  what  God 
enjoined,  yet  I  know  not  how  I  fluctuated  between 
obedience  and  disobedience.  I  had  no  heart,  no 
vigour,  no  zeal  in  obeying;  continually  doubting 
whether  I  was  right  or  wrong,  and  never  out  of  per- 
plexities and  entanglements." 

There  are  those  who,  though  not  professedly  mys- 
tics, would  substitute  love  for  law,  instead  of  making 
it  the  motive  to  the  obedience  of  law,  or  would  set 
aside  positive  commands  on  the  ground  of  their  being 
superseded  by  the  one  higher  command  of  love.  Out- 
ward ordinances,  especially,  are,  in  the  esteem  of  such 
persons,  mere  dead  things, — material,  carnal.  Chris- 
tians should  be  too  spiritual,  too  heavenly,  to  make 
them  of  any  account.  But  not  so  thought  Christ, 
and  his  example   has    made    provision,  by  prophetic 


AN    UNERRING    EXAMPLE.  95 

anticipation,  against  this  error.  He  performed  every 
duty  that  was  prescribed  by  God,  whether  in  the  moral 
law  or  in  the  peculiar  institutes  of  the  Mosaic  law 
"  under"  which  "  he  was  born."  When  an  infant, 
he  received  the  initiatory  ordinance  of  Judaism.  He 
was  "  redeemed,"  according  to  the  law,  as  the  ^'  first- 
born" of  his  mother,  though  himself  the  Redeemer  of 
the  world.  It  can  scarcely  be  doubted  that  he  pre- 
sented every  offering  that  was  required  of  an  Israelite, 
though  himself  the  propitiatory  and  Paschal  Lamb, 
the  archetype  and  substance  of  all  the  shadows  of 
Judaism.  He  visited  the  synagogue,  and  learned  and 
taught  there,  though  himself  the  "  truth."  He  en- 
tered the  temple,  and  worshipped  there,  though  him- 
self greater  than  the  temple, — the  human  shrine  of 
the  Eternal  God.  The  ministry  of  John  the  Baptist, 
under  which  the  old  dispensation  passed  into  the  new, 
received  at  his  hands  the  like  honour;  and  standing 
humbly  before  the  servant  of  God,  he  asked  baptism, 
although  he  needed  no  repentance,  saying,  "  Suffer 
it  to  be  so  now  :  for  thus  it  becometh  us  to  fulfil  all 
righteousness."*  Christ's  followers  must  be  more 
spiritual  than  Christ  himself,  before  it  will  become 
them  to  do  otherwise.  Faith  invariably  produces 
obedience  to  the  will  of  God  in  whatsoever  that  will  is 
known  to  require.  Holy  works  are  its  never-failing 
fruits.  "  They  are  no  less  necessary  to  its  health, 
growth,  and  vigour,  than  motion  to  that  of  the  body; 
and  like  leaves  they  feed  and  strengthen  the  life  they 
spring  from." 

Blessed  be   God  for  a  divine  example  which  thus 
meets  us  at  every  point  of  our  spiritual  course,  and 

*  Matthew  iii.  15. 


■96  THE  soul's  work. 

teaches  us  where  and  how  to  walk.  In  following 
Christ  whithersoever  he  goeth,  we  are  haunted  by  no 
fear  that  we  may  be  doing  the  thing  that  is  wrong. 
We  can  sit  at  his  feet;  we  can  go  with  him  into  soli- 
tude and  into  society;  we  can  observe  him  when  he 
communes  with  God,  and  when  he  deals  with  man  ;  we 
can  watch  his  lips  and  his  emotions  when  he  stands  face 
to  face  with  friend  and  with  foe,  with  no  misgiving 
that  possibly  we  may  be  led  astray  by  the  unreserved 
surrender  of  ourselves  to  the  guidance  of  his  example. 
If  we  learn  to  feel  as  he  feels,  and  to  speak  as  he 
speaks,  and  to  act  as  he  acts,  being  Christ-like,  we  shall 
be  God-like.  His  words  and  acts  are  "  the  true  stars 
which  stand  fast  in  the  heavens,"  and  by  whose  calm 
and  unchanging  light  we  are  led  onward  from  well- 
doing to  well-doing  in  the  way  to  God  and  to  glory. 

"  Lord,  as  to  thy  dear  cross  we  flee, 
And  plead  to  be  forgiven, 
So  let  thy  life  our  pattern  he, 
And  form  our  souls  for  heaven. 

"  Help  us,  through  good  report  and  ill, 
Our  daily  cross  to  bear; 
Like  thee,  to  do  our  Father's  will. 
Our  brethren's  grief  to  share. 

"Let  grace  our  selfishness  expel. 
Our  earthliness  refine, 
And  kindness  in  our  bosoms  dwell. 
As  free  and  true  as  thine. 

'*  Kept  peaceful  in  the  midst  of  strife. 
Forgiving  and  forgiven; 
Oh  may  we  lead  the  pilgrim's  life, 
And  follow  thee  to  heaven." 


CHAPTER   II. 
THE  WORLD'S  WORK. 

Contents. — Is  it  compatible  with  the  divine  life  ? — Natural  simili- 
tudes— Testimony  of  Scripture — Monasticism — Christ's  infancy 
—  True  idea  of  Christ's  private  human  life — Did  he  work  with 
his  own  hands  ? — Significance  of  the  occasion  of  his  first  miracle 
— Alleged  asceticism  of  John  the  Baptist — Apostolic  forewarn- 
ings — Conclusions — Enoch — the  patriarchs  and  their  discipline — 
Daniel — Wilberforce — The  profession  of  arms — Hedley  Vicars — 
General  Havelock — Common  soldiery — Toil  and  care  a  spiritual 
discipline — Extracts  from  Caird  and  Whewell. 


'Not  slothful  in  business;  fervent  in  spirit;  serving  the  Lord." 

EOMANS  xii.  11. 

I  91 


"Religion  is  not  so  much  a  duty,  as  a  something  that  has  to  do  with  aU 
duties;  not  a  tax  to  be  paid  periodically  and  got  rid  of  at  other  times,  but  a 
ceaseless,  all-pervading,  inexhaustible  tribute  to  Ilim  who  is  not  only  the 
object  of  religious  worship,  but  the  end  of  our  very  life  and  being.  Piety  is 
not  for  Sundays  only,  but  for  all  days;  spirituality  of  mind  is  not  appro- 
priate to  one  set  of  actions  and  an  impertinence  and  intrusion  with  reference 
to  others;  but,  like  the  act  of  breathing,  like  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  like 
the  silent  growth  of  the  stature,  a  process  that  may  be  going  on  simul- 
taneously with  all  our  actions ;  when  we  are  busiest  as  when  we  are  idlest; 
in  the  church,  in  the  world ;  in  solitude,  in  society;  in  our  grief  and  in  our 
gladness;  in  our  toil  and  in  our  rest;  sleeping,  waking;  by  day,  by  night 
— amidst  all  the  engagements  and  exigencies  of  life." 

Eev.  John  Caikd. 


THE    WORLD'S    WORK. 

The  world's  work  and  the  divine  life  !  Are  these 
contrary  the  one  to  the  other?  If  by  necessity  or 
otherwise  they  are  brought  into  contact  in  the  same 
person,  is  their  contact  one  of  mutual  forbearance 
merely,  or  may  it  grow  into  an  alliance  of  friendship 
and  mutual  help  ?  Is  the  world's  work  done  best 
apart  from  the  divine  life?  Is  the  divine  life 
safest  and  strongest  apart  from  the  world's  work? 
On  the  answer  that  is  given  to  these  questions  will 
depend  the  entire  structure  and  complexion  of  our 
practical  Christianity.  One  answer  will  lead  us  to 
"flee  from  man  and  man's  pursuits,"  and  betake  our- 
selves to  a  monastic  seclusion,  from  which,  at  a  dis- 
tance, we  shall  pity  the  world  and  hear  the  murmur 
of  its  busy  sounds,  but  not  touch  it,  lest  we  be  defiled. 
A  different  answer  will  not  only  allow  but  constrain 
us  to  go  into  the  thickest  of  its  society,  and  the  com- 
monest of  its  labours,  believing  that  even  there  we 
shall  be  subjected  to  no  necessary  defilement,  but  may 
serve  God  in  all  well-pleasing. 

Two  streams,  especially  if  in  rapid  motion,  may  flow 

side  by  side  for  many  a  mile  without  mingling  their 

waters.     It  is  so  with  the  Mississippi  and   Missouri, 

the   line   of  meeting  between    whose   waters   may  be 

traced  for  miles  below  the  junction  of  the  two  rivers. 

It  is  so  with  the  Gulf  Stream,  whose  waters  preserve 

a  distinctive  character,  as  they  sweep  along  through 

(9y) 


100  THE   world's   work. 

the  Atlantic,  like  a  stream  of  oil  in  the  ocean,  for 
three  thousand  miles  It  is  so  with  the  shallow  Arve 
and  the  majestic  Rhone.  The  Rhone  flows  from  the 
Genevan  Lake,  clear  as  cr3^stal ;  the  Arve  flows  from 
the  "  restless  grinding  glaciers,"  muddy,  and  cold  as 
death.  Descending  from  its  mountain  birthplace,  the 
Arve  rushes  into  the  Rhone  at  right  angles,  as  if  in 
haste  to  mingle  its  noisy  current  with  the  waters  of 
the  lake  river;  but  the  Rhone  repels  its  advance,  and 
rushes  on  by  itself.  And  thus  the  two  rivers  flow  on 
without  mingling,  the  cold  mud  on  the  one  side,  and 
the  clear  crystal  on  the  other.  ''  The  Arve  is  the 
child  of  night  and  frost,"  to  use  the  words  of  Dr. 
Cheever,  "  while  the  Rhone  is  the  daughter  of  the  day 
and  of  sunshine." 

Now,  are  these  true  symbols  of  the  world's  work 
and  of  the  life  of  God  in  man's  soul  'r*  And  are  these 
the  only  fit  relations  which  they  can  sustain  to  each 
other  ? 

Let  the  appeal  be  made  to  Holy  Scripture,  and 
such  questions  are  soon  answered.  The  relations  and 
the  labours  of  life  are  not  only  tolerated  there,  but  dis- 
tinctly sanctioned.  What  Socrates  is  said  to  have  done 
in  philosophy,  the  inspired  writers  have  done  in  religion  ; 
they  have  brought  it  down  from  heaven  to  earth.  We 
find  them  now  prostrate  in  adoration  before  the  throne 
of  God,  and,  overwhelmed  with  the  profound  mystery 
of  his  being  and  of  his  works,  exclaiming,  "  0  the 
depth  of  the  riches  both  of  the  wisdom  and  knowledge 
of  God  !  how  unsearchable  are  his  judgments,  and  his 
ways  past  finding  out!"*  And  then  we  find  them 
enforcing  a  comprehensive  and  manly  regard  to  all 
present,   personal,   and    social    duty.     They  inculcate 

*  Romans  xi.  33. 


SOCIAL    RELATTONSTTIPS.  101 

the  transcendant  importance  of  what  is  spiritual,  and 
say,  *'  If  je  then  be  risen  with  Christ,  seek  those 
things  which  are  above,  where  Christ  sitteth  on  the 
right  hand  of  God.  Set  your  affection  on  things 
above,  not  on  things  on  the  earth."*  And  then  they 
insist  on  earthly  claims,  and  place  them  under  the 
highest  sanctions  of  the  Christian  faith:  "If  any 
provide  not  for  his  own,  and  especially  for  those  of  his 
own  house,  he  hath  denied  the  faith,  and  is  worse  than 
an  infidel.""!*  Let  men  abandon  work  on  a  religious 
pretext,  as  did  certain  Thessalonians,  and  apostles  are 
at  once  prepared  to  command,  on  divine  authority,  that 
^' if  any  will  not  work,  neither  shall  he  eat. "J 

The  verdict  of  these  divinely  guided  men  on  the 
social  relationship  of  life  is  equally  clear.  And  we 
associate  the  relationships  of  the  world  and  the  work 
of  the  world,  because  they  involve  and  imply  each 
other.  When  the  latter  is  repudiated  as  unholy,  so 
are  the  former.  But  what  saith  the  Scripture  ?  Its 
testimony,  full  and  explicit,  will  be  found  in  the 
6th  chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians.  Marriage, 
instead  of  being  less  holy  than  celibacy,  is  with  the 
writers  of  Scripture  the  chosen  sign  of  the  spiritual 
union  which  subsists  between  Christ  and  his  people  ; 
and  its  duties  are  inculcated  by  the  highest  considera- 
tions which  the  mysteries  of  the  gospel  can  suggest. 
It  is  not  necessary  that  we  measure  and  define  the 
exact  force  of  every  word  in  this  Scripture,  in  order  to 
see  in  it  a  standing  and  conclusive  argument  against 
monasticism.  Its  strength  and  its  minuteness  leave 
nothing  to  be  desired.  The  married  woman,  instead 
of  being  in  a  less  holy  condition   than  the  unmarried, 

*  Colossians  iii.  1,  2.  fl  Timothy  v.  8. 

X  2  Thessalonians  iii.  10. 
9* 


102  THE   world's   work. 

is  the  apostolic  symbol  of  the  church  of  Christ,  when 
presented  to  him  in  stainless  glory,  beyond  the  reach 
of  all  earthly  defilement.  The  married  man,  instead 
of  being  in  a  less  holy  state  than  the  unmarried,  exer- 
cises in  that  state  an  authority  which  is  the  symbol  of 
Christ's  authority  over  his  church.  The  love  of  the 
husband  to  the  wife,  and  the  tenderness  with  which 
he  cherishes  her,  are  not  of  the  earth  earthy,  but  find 
their  ideal  and  their  highest  motive  in  the  tender  love 
of  Christ  to  his  church — the  love  which  has  redeemed 
her,  the  love  which  cherishes  her,  and  which  will  not 
be  content  till  it  has  robed  her  in  unsullied  and 
unchanging  purity.  The  duties  of  the  relationship  are 
not  to  be  discharged  as  a  low  necessity,  but  as  ''  unto 
the  Lord."  And  the  relation,  once  entered  upon,  is 
indissoluble.  This  is  apostolic  teaching;  but  what 
says  monasticism  ? 

Monasticism  has  not  only  drawn  the  unmarried  to 
its  cells  and  solitudes,  but  has  dared  to  give  dispensa- 
tion to  the  married  to  forsake  each  other  for  its  hijrher 
and  holier  life,  thus  making  void  the  law  which  God 
enacted  in  the  beginning,  which  Christ  confirmed  by 
his  express  authority,  and  which  furnished  the  apostle 
Paul  with  his  best  illustration  of  the  indissolubleness 
and  the  intimacy  of  the  union  between  the  Saviour  and 
the  saved.  As  if  prophetically  to  anticipate  this  pre- 
sumption, and  to  lift  up  a  standard  against  it,  the 
apostle  not  only  repeats  the  law  of  paradise,  but 
asserts  its  obligation  on  every  "individual;" — "Let 
every  one  of  you  in  particular  (individually)  so  love 
his  wife  even  as  himself;  and  the  wife  see  that  she 
reverence  her  husband."*  "  What  God  hath  joined 
together  let  no  man  put  asunder/'f  is  the  divine  law. 

*  Ephesians  v.  33.  t  Matthew  six.  6. 


SEPARATION   FROM   THE   WORLD.  103 

''You  may  break  it  asunder,"  the  monastery  says, 
**  if  you  only  do  it  for  me."  "  Husbands,  love  your 
wives;  wives,  reverence  your  husbands,"*  the  law 
says.  "  Husbands,  you  may  forsake  your  wives  \ 
wives,  you  may  forsake  your  husbands,"  the  monastery 
says,  "  if  you  only  do  it  for  me."  The  law  and  the 
monastery,  then,  cannot  both  be  of  God.  And  we  are 
not  surprised  to  find  the  prohibition  of  marriage,  of 
which  the  "  Spirit  spoke  expressly"  as  one  of  the  cha- 
racteristics of  "  latter  times,"  described  as  a  departure 
from  the  faith,  and  the  product  of  seducing  spirits. f 

The  duties  of  rulers  and  subjects,  of  masters  and 
servants,  of  parents  and  children,  are  all  described  and 
enforced  on  the  same  page  with  the  duties  of  husbands 
and  wives.  The  existence  and  permanence  of  those 
relations  are  presupposed.  And  not  only  is  their  law- 
fulness implied,  but  their  obligations  are  placed  under 
the  sanction  of  the  one  great  Christian  principle  of 
"  doing  every  thing  unto  the  Lord."  "What  otherwise 
might  be  mean  and  earthly  is  thus  ennobled  and  exalted 
by  its  alliance  with  the  spirit  of  heaven. 

Christians,  it  is  true,  are  solemnly  charged  to  come 
out  from  among  unbelievers,  and  be  separate,  and  not 
touch  the  unclean  thing.J  But  that  the  separation 
is  to  be  a  moral  separation,  practised  in  the  very 
midst  of  the  world's  society  and  pursuits,  is  the  ex- 
press assertion  of  the  apostle  who  commands  it. 
"  I  enjoined  you  in  my  letter  not  to  keep  company 
with  fornicators  3  yet,  I  meant  not  altogether  to  bid 
you  forego  intercourse  with  the  men  of  this  world  who 
may  be  fornicators,  or  lascivious,  or  extortioners,  or 
idolaters ;  for  so  you  would  be  forced  to   go   utterly 

*  Ephesian.o  v.  25.  33.  f  1  Timothy  iv.  1—3. 

X  '2.  Coi  iutbiaus  vi.  17. 


104 

out  of  the  world.  But  my  meaning  was  that  you 
would  not  keep  company  with  any  man  who,  bearing 
the  name  of  a  brother,  is  either  a  fornicator,  or  lasci- 
vious, or  an  idolater,  or  a  railer,  or  a  drunkard,  or  an 
extortioner;  with  such  a  man,  I  say,  you  must  not  so 
much  as  eat."*  The  "  going  out  of  the  world "  in 
order  to  avoid  contact  with  its  evils  was  a  thing  not 
to  be  thought  of,  according  to  this  apostle;  and  any 
construction  put  on  his  words  which  implied  such  aa 
issue,  must  be,  Paul  himself  intimates,  utterly  wrong. 
Christians  are  not  to  flee  from  the  presence  of  the 
ungodly,  or  decline  the  intercourse  which  their  occu- 
pations necessitate ;  while  at  the  same  time  they  are 
not  to  acknowledge  the  brotherhood  of  the  wicked,  or 
choose  them  for  the  friends  of  their  heart.  It  is  not  a 
local  or  social  separation,  but  a  moral  and  spiritual, 
that  the  apostle  enjoins,  when  he  says,  "  I  beseech  you, 
brethren,  by  the  mercies  of  God,  that  ye  present  your 
bodies  a  living  sacrifice,  holy,  acceptable  unto  God, 
which  is  your  reasonable  service.  And  be  not  con- 
formed to  this  world  :  but  be  ye  transformed  by  the 
renewing  of  your  mind.""]" 

To  sustain  our  argument,  it  is  not  necessary  to 
appeal  to  the  practical  corruptions  and  abuses  of  the 
monastic  system,  and  to  show  how,  founded  on  vows 
of  poverty  and  celibacy,  monastic  orders  have  acquired 
wealth  and  practised  habits  of  the  grossest  self- 
indulgence  and  licentiousness.  Nor  is  it  necessary  to 
deny  the  incidental  advantages  which,  in  certain  cir- 
cumstances, have  accrued  to  society  from  their  exist- 
ence.    Their  principle  is  fundamentally  wrong.     The 

•  1  Corinthians  v.  9 — 11.     This  translation  by  Mr.  Conybeare  may  help 
the  reader  to  a  clearer  perception  of  the  force  of  the  passage. 
t  Romans  xii.  1,  2. 


THE   HUMAN   IN   CHRIST.  105 

better  the  man  who  sought  in  them  a  refuge  from  the 
chaos  and  turbulence  of  the  world,  the  more  was  he 
needed  in  the  world.  "  What  doest  thou  here,  Elijah  V 
said  "  the  still  small  voice"  to  the  fugitive  prophet  in 
his  hiding-place  in  Mount  Horeb.  "  What  hast  Thou, 
of  all  men,  to  do  here  ?  Thou,  whose  post  in  my  ser- 
vice is  among  the  haunts  of  men,  to  fight  my  battles 
against  a  perverse  generation,  and  to  strengthen  the 
hearts  of  those  who  still  encourage  themselves  in  the 
Lord  their  God ;  what  hast  thou  to  do  in  this  selfish, 
moaning  solitude  ?  what  hast  thou  to  do  here  .^" 

"  Go,  to  the  world  return,  nor  fear  to  cast 
Thy  bread  upon  the  waters ;  sure,  at  last, 
In  joy  to  find  it  after  many  days." 

This  notion,  however,  with  its  invariable  associate, 
asceticism,  is  deeply  rooted  in  our  nature.  It  has 
grafted  itself  on  all  the  religions  of  the  world,  true 
and  false.  Judaism  was  not  proof  against  it;  Chris- 
tianity has  been  corrupted  by  it;  and  both  the  creeds 
and  the  rituals  of  heathendom  are  steeped  in  it.  But 
it  is  utterly  opposed  to  the  example  and  teaching  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Centuries  after  his  departure  from 
the  world,  the  history  of  his  infancy  and  childhood 
was  overloaded  with  legends,  which  originated  in  a 
spirit  of  blindness  that  could  not  perceive  the  beauty 
of  the  human  and  natural  elements  of  his  life.  And 
the  Bible  picture  of  his  childhood  is  so  human,  in  the 
truest  and  purest  sense,  that  even  the  most  enlight- 
ened thinkers  can  scarcely  fill  up  the  outline  without 
introducing,  in  their  desire  to  magnify  him,  features 
that  are  not  in  keeping  with  the  original.  When  the 
poet  of  "  Paradise  Regained,"  for  example,  represents 
the  Lord  as  recalling  in  the  wilderness  the  inward 
communings  of  his  boyhood,  and  saying — 


106  THE  world's  work. 

"  Above  my  years, 
The  law  of  God  I  read  and  found  it  sweet, 
Made  it  my  whole  delight  and  in  it  grew 
To  such  perfection,  that,  ere  yet  my  age 
Had  measured  twice  six  years,  at  one  great  feast 
I  went  into  the  temple,  there  to  hear 
The  teachers  of  our  law,  and  to  propose 
What  might  improve  my  knowledge  or  their  own." 

we  consent  to  the  fitness  of  the  meditation.  But  when 
he  proceeds  to  say — 

"  Yet  this  not  all 
To  which  my  spirit  aspired.    Victorious  deed 
Flamed  in  my  heart,  heroic  acts,  one  while 
To  rescue  Israel  from  the  Roman  Yoke  ; 
Then  to  subdue  and  quell,  o'er  all  the  earth, 
Brute  violence  and  proud  tyrannic  power, 
Till  truth  were  freed  and  equity  restored," 

we  consent  to  the  comment  of  one  who  says — "  High 
resolves,  no  doubt,  worthy  of  a  hero,  but  only  of  a  hero ; 
it  is  ourselves  magnified,  but  only  magnified  :  the  pe- 
culiar element  of  St.  Luke's  picture  is  gone.'' 

Now,  what  is  that  picture?  Christ's  birth  was 
attended  by  special  forthcomings  of  divine  power  and 
majesty,  which  attested  his  glory  as  the  Son  of  God. 
But  we  pass  these  by,  and  find  him  a  human  child, 
with  all  a  child's  dependence,  bodily  and  mental,  under 
the  care  of  Joseph  and  Mary,  in  the  despised  Galilean 
town  of  Nazareth.  His  parents  went  to  Jerusalem 
every  year  at  the  feast  of  the  passover.  And  when  he 
was  twelve  years  old,  he  accompanied  them.  This  is 
the  only  circumstance  that  is  recorded  of  the  first 
thirty  years  of  his  life;  and  in  the  record  there  is  one 
sentence  which  lifts  the  veil  from  his  humanity;  "one 
sentence  which  difi"erences  the  history  of  Christ  from 
any  thing  that  could  have  been  reported  of  the  life  of 
any  other  man.''  It  is  that  which  contains  the  words 
of  Christ  to  his  mother  : — "  How  is  it  that  ye  sought 
me?     Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  about  my  Father's 


DID   CHRIST    WORK   WITH    HIS    HANDS  ?         107 

business  ?"  or  "  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  in  my 
Father's  house  ?"  Either  way,  in  the  mysterious 
reference  to  his  Father,  we  see  a  ray  of  the  divine 
glory  breaking  through  the  veil  behind  which  his 
majesty  for  the  most  part  lay  concealed;  With  this 
exception,  'Hhe  tale  in  no  way  transcends  ordinary  ex- 
perience. The  child  missed — the  parent's  alarm — the 
return  to  Jerusalem — the  search  for  him  in  the  city — 
the  discovery  of  him  in  the  temple  with  the  doctors — 
the  reproach  of  the  mother — the  submission  and  re- 
turn of  the  son  ;  all  these  circumstances,  constituting 
as  they  do  a  tale  of  deep  interest,  do  yet  contain  no 
single  feature  that  is  not  purely  human."  And  this 
peep  into  the  manner  of  his  human  life  is  most  in- 
structive and  most  precious.  That  child,  whose  under- 
standing and  answers  astonished  the  doctors  and  other 
worshippers  in  the  temple,  and  who  claimed  a  myste- 
rious relationship  to  God  as  his  Father,  returned  to  the 
bosom  of  the  humble  family  to  which  he  belonged  at 
Nazareth,  and  "was  subject"  still,  as  he  had  been 
before,  to  Joseph  and  Mary.  The  honour  thus  put  on 
the  great  sacred  bond  of  human  society  is  fatal  to  the 
claims  of  the  monastery  and  the  desert  to  be  considered 
the  scene  of  a  higher  and  holier  life  than  men  can  lead 
in  the  midst  of  domestic  duties.  Living  in  the  family 
of  Joseph  the  carpenter,  and  sharing  in  its  toils, 
"Jesus  increased  in  wisdom  and  stature,  and  in  favour 
with  God  and  man."* 

"  Sharing  in  its  toils,"  we  have  said.  The  ques- 
tion of  the  people,  "Is  not  this  the  carpenter ?"f 
may  have  been  asked  because  he  belonged  to  a  car- 
penter's family.  But  the  most  natural  interpretation 
of  it  is,  that  he  was  himself  known   to  follow   the 

*  Luke  ii.  52.  f  Mark  vi.  3. 


108  THE    WORLD^S    WORK. 

carpenter's  occupation.  And  why  should  we  shrink 
from  believing  it  ?  Because  it  was  beneath  him  ? 
There  was  nothing  beneath  him  hut  sin.  If  it  was  not 
beneath  him  to  become  man,  it  could  not  be  beneath 
him  to  do  man's  work. 

We  only  dishonour  the  Saviour  by  supposing  that 
while  under  the  humble  roof  of  Joseph,  and,  after 
Joseph's  death,  that  of  his  own  loved  and  widowed 
mother,  he  folded  his  arms  and  lived  a  life  of  depend- 
ence on  others,  himself  absorbed  in  meditation — a  life 
which  to  his  neighbours  could  appear  only  as  that  of  an 
idle  dreamer.  That  he  wrought  no  miracle  to  supply 
his  family's  wants,  we  know ;  and  that  he  was  "  subject 
to  his  parents,"  we  know.  Now  among  the  Jews  it 
was  considered,  at  that  period,  incumbent  on  a  father 
to  bring  up  his  son  in  some  art  or  trade.  And  it  is 
the  saying  of  an  eminent  rabbi,  that  "  Y/hosoever 
teacheth  not  his  son  to  do  some  work,  is  as  if  he 
taught  him  robbery."  Jesus  assuredly,  occupying  the 
place  of  a  poor  man's  son,  would  not  eat  the  bread  of 
idleness.  If  any  one  had  suggested  that  he  should  be 
exempt  from  the  obligation  common  to  others,  his 
reply  would  have  been,  "  Thus  it  becometh  us  to  fulfil 
all  righteousness." 

We  confess,  indeed,  to  a  sentiment  of  wonder  at  the 
spectacle  presented  to  us  in  that  carpenter's  shop  at 
Nazareth,  the  Son  of  God  in  human  nature  enrning 
his  bread  with  the  sweat  of  his  brow.  But  it  is  only  a 
part  of  the  great  wonder  of  God  incarnate;  and  while 
we  wonder  and  adore,  we  bless  him  that  herein  he 
has  left  us  an  example  that  we  should  follow  his 
steps  :  "  The  disciple  is  not  above  his  Master,  nor  the 
servant  above  his  Lord."  There  are  times  when  rebel 
thoughts   arise.      Toil,   we   imagine,   is   beneath   us. 


THE   FIRST   AND   THE   SECOND   ADAM.  109 

What  men  have  proudly  called  ^'  the  strong  divinity 
of  soul"  stirs  within  our  bosoms,  and  makes  us  con- 
scious of  a  mind  that  is  capable  of  rising  to  a  know- 
ledge of  God  and  of  his  universe,  seen  and  unseen ; 
and  our  hearts  question,  "  Shall  such  an  one  as  I, 
Tsith  a  soul  allied  to  the  nature  of  God  himself,  work 
all  my  days  in  clay  and  wood,  in  iron  and  brass  ?"  The 
question  may  take  another  form.  "  Redeemed  from 
among  men,  made  a  child  of  God  and  an  heir  of 
heaven,  living  on  the  very  confines  of  glory,  is  it  meet 
that  I  should  be  doomed  to  a  life  of  perpetual  toil,  and 
that  in  connection  with  the  meanest  of  earth's  mean 
affairs  V  The  early  Christians,  just  emerging  from  the 
shades  of  ignorance,  and  awakened  by  new  hopes, 
were  in  great  danger  of  being  led  away  by  such  ima- 
ginations as  these.  Feeling  an  elevation  to  which 
they  were  strangers  before,  and  looking  down  upon  the 
world  around  them  as  the  vassals  of  sin  and  Satan, 
they  might  be  easily  tempted  to  imagine  the  restraint 
of  laws  could  not  extend  to  persons  so  highly 
privileged,  and  that  it  was  ignominious  in  the  freemen 
of  Jesus  Christ  to  submit  to  the  yoke  of  idolatrous 
rulers.  Hence  probably  the  bold  and  emphatic  terms 
in  which  apostles  inculcated  subjection  to  earthly 
ordinances,  "for  conscience  sake."  The  yoke  of 
manual  labour  and  physical  toil  is  likewise  to  be 
borne  " for  conscience  sake;"  and  if  we  need  ought  to 
reconcile  us  to  it,  there  is  enough  in  the  fact  that  it 
was  borne  both  by  the  first  and  by  the  second  Adam. 
The  first,  yet  perfect,  the  image  of  God  still  untar- 
nished, while  earth  and  heaven  were  in  unbroken 
fellowship,  and  God  himself  was  the  friendly  visitor  of 
his  earthly  child — the  unfallen  Adam — was  placed  in 
the  garden  of  Eden  to  dress  it  and  to  keep  it.  The 
10 


110  THE   world's   work. 

second,  the  Lord  from  heaven,  not  only  sinless  man, 
but  incarnate  God,  spent  his  dajs  not  in  the  king's 
palace,  nor  in  the  philosopher's  school,  nor  in  the 
hermit's  solitude,  but  in  the  carpenter's  shop.  AVe 
need  not  that  the  orator  or  the  poet  should  tell  us  of 
the  dignity  of  labour;  or  the  economist,  of  its  neces- 
sity; or  the  casuist,  of  its  lawfulness.  One  visit  to 
Nazareth,  and  we  see  it  all.  "It  is  enough  that  the  dis- 
ciple be  as  his  Master,  and  the  servant  as  his  Lord." 

"  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  about  my  Father's 
business?"  said  Christ,  in  explanation  of  what  seemed 
mysterious  to  his  parents  —  his  converse  with  the 
doctors  in  the  temple.  They  are  his  first  recorded 
words;  and  his  last  before  his  death  are  like  them — 
"  It  is  finished."  These  sayings  may  be  regarded 
as  the  moral  boundaries  of  his  life,  the  one  at  the 
beginning,  the  other  at  the  end.  He  began  life  by 
saying  that  he  "must  be  about  his  Father's  work;" 
he  ended  life  by  saying  that  his  Father's  work  was 
accomplished.  Now  there  was  nothing  in  all  that 
life  of  his  that  did  not  form  a  part  of  his  Father's 
work.  Our  minds  naturally  revert  to  the  glorious 
teaching  of  the  mount  of  Beatitudes,  the  glorious 
miracles  that  were  wrought  by  his  word,  and  the  still 
more  glorious  sacrifice  which  he  ofi'ered  on  Calvary, 
and  say,  "  These  formed  his  Father's  business."  But 
not  these  alone :  there  was  not  the  smallest  thread  in 
the  whole  web  of  his  life  that  was  not  put  there 
*'  according  to  his  Father's  will."  He  was  in  his  right 
place  in  the  workshop  as  well  as  in  the  temple.  He 
was  doing  the  right  thing  when  he  was  obeying  the 
parents  of  the  Nazarene  family,  as  well  as  when  he 
was  commanding  the  winds  and  the  waves.  When 
with  a  human   heart  and  human   hands  he  held   his 


THE   MIRACLE   IN    CAN  A.  Ill 

place  for  thirty  years  in  the  domestic  circle,  and 
shared  its  toils  and  cares,  he  was  doing  his  Father's 
will  as  certainly  as  during  those  three  years  that  were 
spent  in  the  open  manifestation  of  his  divine  Son- 
ship,  and  in  the  direct  accomplishment  of  the  world's 
redemption.  In  his  public  life  he  stands  alone;  in 
its  mysterious  grandeur  and  peculiar  aims  he  can 
be  followed  by  neither  man  nor  angel.  But  in  his 
private  life,  covering  by  far  the  larger  space  in  his 
earthly  sojourn,  he  is  the  example  of  all.  Whether 
they  plough  the  land  or  plough  the  sea,  wield  the 
hammer  or  wield  the  pen,  do  the  work  of  a  master  or 
the  work  of  a  servant,  they  have  only  to  do  all  "as 
unto  the  Lord/'  and  it  will  be  acknowledged  as  their 
Father's  business.  And  in  the  midst  of  it,  and  of  the 
society  of  the  world  which  it  necessitates,  they  may  be 
as  Jesus  was,  still  "separate  from  sinners." 

The  after-life  of  Jesus,  though  devoted  to  other 
labours  than  those  of  the  family  and  the  workshop, 
teaches  the  same  lesson.  His  first  miracle  was  per- 
formed at  a  marriage  feast,  and  in  aid  of  the  marriage 
festivities — a  circumstance  which  has  often  occasioned 
wonder,  but  which  is  instinct  with  meaning.  That 
he  should  have  chosen  a  marriage  feast  for  beginning 
to  "  manifest  forth  his  glory"  was  not  the  result  of 
accident;  nor  can  we  reverently  imagine  it  possible 
that  in  any  sense  the  choice  was  inconsiderate  or  unin- 
tentional. 

With  the  history  of  the  church  before  us,  we  see 
in  it  a  prophetic  protest  against  the  ascetic  habits  and 
monastic  vows  which  have  claimed  to  themselves  a 
higher  religious  character  than  can  belong  to  the 
rela,tions  and  pursuits  of  common  life.  We  see  in  his 
miracle  more  than  an  act  of   kindness  to  the  indi- 


112  THE   world's   work. 

viduals  whose  nuptials  were  celebrated  in  that  cottage 
home  in  Cana  of  Galilee;  we  see  in  it  the  rendering 
of  transcendent  honour  to  that  state  which  was  ''in- 
stituted of  God  in  the  time  of  man's  innocence."  The 
English  marriage -service  does  not  exaggerate  the 
import  of  Christ's  act  when  it  says — "  Which  holy 
estate  Christ  adorned  and  beautified  with  his  pre- 
sence, and  first  miracle  that  he  wrought."  The 
Founder  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  on  earth  did  not 
begin  his  work  by  teaching  his  followers  to  break 
every  tie  of  earthly  kindred,  and  neglect  every  earthly 
duty,  and  flee  into  solitudes,  where  they  might  live  the 
life  avowedly  of  saints,  but  more  truly  of  worms  or  of 
wild  beasts.  He  laid  the  foundation  of  his  kingdom 
in  that  humble  household  for  whose  benefit  he  turned 
water  into  wine.  Then  and  there  did  he  claim  the 
family  as  the  first  and  special  sphere  for  the  growth 
and  exercise  of  the  Christian  graces  and  virtues. 
And  the  existence  of  families  involves  the  existence  of 
all  the  other  relations  of  life,  with  all  their  duties  and 
labours.  The  whole  fabric  of  society  rests  on  the 
family,  and  instead  of  dissolving  society,  the  Christ  of 
God  claimed  it  as  the  scene  of  his  spiritual  reign,  to 
be  purified  and  pervaded  by  the  holy  principles  of  his 
gospel.  Human  connections  and  interests  and  joys 
were  not  abandoned  to  the  princedom  of  his  rival,  the 
devil,  but  taken  possession  of  for  the  glory  of  God. 
The  social  life  of  man  was  not  destroyed,  but  sanctified 
by  the  Lord  from  heaven. 

The  same  truth  and  lesson  are  taught  by  the 
words  in  which  Christ  chid  the  inconsistency  of 
the  Jews.  "  John  the  Baptist  came  neither  eating 
bread  nor  drinking  wine;  and  ye  say.  He  hath  a 
devil.      The  Son  of  man  is  come  eating  and  drink- 


JOHN    THE    BAPTIST    AND    CHRIST.  113 

ing;  and  ye  say,  Behold  a  gluttonous  man,  and  a 
winebibber,  a  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners."* 
In  fulfilment  of  his  vow  as  a  Nazarite,  John  drank 
no  wine.  In  harmony  with  his  mission  as  a  minis- 
ter of  "  repentance,"  and  with  his  condition  as  a  poor 
man,  he  was  clad  in  a  dress  which  may  still  be 
seen  every  day  in  Syro- Arabia, — a  rough  robe  of  camel's 
hair,  bound  about  the  waist  with  a  leathern  girdle. 
In  preparation  for  his  great  work,  he  lived  for  a  time 
in  the  wilderness,  and  was  content  with  such  food  as 
the  wilderness  supplied  —  locusts  and  wild  honey. 
From  his  desert  home,  where  he  communed  with 
nature  in  its  wildest  aspects,  and  still  more,  with  the 
God  of  nature,  the  God  of  Israel,  he  looked  towards 
the  towns  and  cities  of  Judea,  saw  and  brooded  over 
their  corruptions,  and  nursed  the  thoughts  and  feelings 
which  these  awakened,  until  the  time  of  his  appearing 
to  Israel  arrived.  In  all  this  there  was  no  asceticism. 
It  was  only  in  keeping  with  the  peculiar  character  of 
his  work,  and  admirably  preparatory  for  it.  But  even 
if  in  a  very  modified  sense  John's  manner  of  life  be 
called  ascetic,  Christ's  may  not.  And  his  is  the  true 
model  of  the  Christian  life.  The  charge  against  him, 
"  Behold  a  gluttonous  man,  and  a  winebibber,"  was 
false,  and  was  not  believed,  even  by  those  who  made 
it;  but  the  fact  on  which  it  was  based,  and  which 
Pharisaic  enmity  perverted  into  a  crime,  was  admitted 
by  himself:  "He  came  eating  and  drinking."  He 
did  not  cultivate  an  ascetic  piety  in  the  seclusion  of 
an  oratory,  or  in  the  solitude  of  a  desert,  but 
"received  sinners,  and  ate  with  them;"  and  while 
he  did  so,  he  was  "  holy,  harmless,  and  undefiled." 
He  was  "separate  from  sinners"  in  the  way  in  which 

*  Luke  -vii.  33,  34. 
10* 


114  THE    world's   work. 

he  wills  Ins  followers  to  be,  even  when  he  mingled  in 
their  society,  and  ate  at  their  tables.  If  John's  man- 
ner of  life  be  declared  the  prototype  of  the  ascetic, 
Christ  must  be  regarded  as  the  type  of  the  Christian. 
The  lesson  which  was  conveyed  by  his  first  miracle  at 
Cana  was  confirmed  by  his  whole  after-life — a  life 
which,  while  it  was  the  purest  ever  lived  on  earth,  was 
spent  in  social  intercourse  with  mankind,  and  amid 
the  common  pursuits  of  the  world. 

The  Christian  life,  as  it  appears  in  the  writings  of  the 
apostles,  was  the  life  of  parents  and  children,  of  masters 
and  servants,  of  rulers  and  subjects,  of  buyers  and 
sellers — a  life  spent  in  cities,  not  in  solitudes — in  the 
workshop  and  the  market-place,  not  in  cells  and 
cloisters.  These  writings,  moreover,  contain  a  solemn 
protest  against  the  ascetic  practices  whose  encroach- 
ments began  even  in  the  apostolic  times,  and  whose 
growing  pretensions  the  prophetic  spirit  distinctly 
foresaw.  "  Since  with  Christ  ye  have  died  ofi"  from 
the  rudiments  of  the  world,  why,  as  yet  living  in  the 
world,  do  ye  suffer  such  ordinances  to  be  published 
among  you  as  ^  Touch  not,  taste  not,  handle  not,'  in 
reference  to  things  which  are  meant  to  perish  in  the 
use — ordinances  which  have  no  higher  authority  than 
the  commandments  and  the  doctrines  of  men  ?  which 
procedure,  indeed,  having  a  show  of  wisdom  in  will- 
worship  and  humility,  and  neglecting  of  the  body,  not 
in  anything  of  value,  only  ministers  to  the  gratifica- 
tion of  the  flesh."*  "  The  Spirit  speaketh  expressly, 
that  in  the  latter  times  some  shall  depart  from  the 
faith,  giving  heed  to  seducing  spirits forbid- 
ding to  marry,  and  commanding  to  abstain  from  meats, 

*  Colossians  ii.  20—23. 


ENOCH    NOT    AN    ASCETIC.  115 

■which  God  hath  created  to  be  received  with  thanks- 
giving."* The  whole  phenomenon  of  asceticism,  in- 
clusive of  its  self-chosen  austerities  and  its  abandon- 
ment of  the  relations  and  duties  of  social  life,  is  "a, 
huge  self-deception,  and  a  reversal  of  that  moral  order 
which  God  has  established." 

We  are  now  prepared  to  assert,  and  to  illustrate  by 
examples,  the  following  positions  : — 

First.  The  world's  labour  and  the  heart's  piety  may 
co-exist  in  the  same  person,  each  in  the  highest  and 
intensest  degree — sure  sign  that,  at  the  least,  there  is 
no  natural  repugnance  between  them,  and  that  they 
are  not  hostile  the  one  to  the  other. 

Second.  The  highest  motives  which  Christian  piety 
can  supply  may  be  brought  to  bear  on  the  discharge 
of  the  labours  connected  with  the  world's  work,  and 
with  the  duties  of  our  social  relationships. 

Third.  Those  labours  and  duties  may  become  the 
means  of  nurturing  and  strengthening  the  virtues  and 
graces  of  the  Christian  character. 

"We  need  not  bid,  for  cloister'd  cell, 
Our  neighbour  and  our  work  farewell ; 

Each  trivial  round,  the  common  task, 
Will  furnish  all  we  ought  to  ask; 
Room  to  deny  ourselves  ;  a  road 
To  bring  us  daily  nearer  God." 

Enoch  "  walked  with  God,''  but  not  in  a  state  of 
separation  from  society  and  the  common  work  of  man. 
He  was  not  an  ascetic  or  recluse.  "  He  married," 
says  the  Rev.  W.  Jay,  quaintly  but  truly,  '' earlier 
than  any  of  his  patriarchal  brethren,  and  had  sons 
and  daughters.  It  is  not  the  religion  of  the  Bible 
that  drives   men  into  caves  and  dens  of  the  earth, 

*  1  Timothy  iv.  1,  3. 


116  THE     world's    work. 

or  thnt  tenclies  them  to  counteract  the  destinations  of 
Providence,  or  to  oppose  the  nature  that  God  has  given 
them.  Is  a  wretched,  dronish  monk  in  his  cell,  with 
his  horse-hair,  skull,  and  hour-glass,  a  more  amiable,  a 
more  useful,  a  more  lioly  being  than  Enoch  at  the  head 
of  an  early  family,  filling  up  his  station,  and  serving 
his  generation  by  the  will  of  God?" 

As  it  was  with  Enoch,  so  with  the  patriarchs  Abra- 
ham, Isaac,  and  Jacob.  These,  we  have  seen,  may  be 
taken  as  representatives  of  well-known  forms  and  de- 
velopments both  of  human  nature  and  of  true  piety; 
so  were  their  circumstances,  with  the  interests  of 
their  daily  life,  identical  with  those  which  concern 
men  now.  They  were  "  not  phantoms  dwelling  in  a 
cloud-land.  Theirs  was  not  an  anomalous,  or  legend- 
ary, or  even  a  heroic  life.  They  were  simply  men, 
living  through  the  ordinary  stages  of  their  mortal 
existence  upon  earth,  in  honest  and  loyal  conformity 
to  the  order  which  has  been  prescribed  by  God.'^* 
And  that  order  supplied  at  once  their  duties  and 
temptations,  and  with  these  their  discipline.  The 
glimpses  we  have  into  their  characters,  imperfect  but 
struggling  onward,  identify  them  with  those  who  are 
now  living,  as  they  were,  amid  the  duties  and  trials  of 
social  life,  "  Amidst  the  distractions  and  humiliation 
of  those  domestic  cares,  which  have  been  so  often 
represented  as  unfavourable  for  the  culture  and  de- 
velopment of  an  earnest  spiritual  existence,  we  see,  in 
these  men,  the  three  distinctive  types  of  human  cha- 
racter gradually  rising  into  fitness  for  those  grand 
positions  in  the  immortal  world  which  human  spirits 
were  meant  to  occupy.  Their  course  was,  indeed, 
often  overshadowed  by  clouds  of  infirmity  and  guilt; 

*  G.  S.  Drew :  "  Scripture  Studies." 


THE   PATRIARCHS    NOT    ASCETICS.  117 

and  yet  it  was  ever  ascending;  and  it  continually 
became  clearer  and  clearer,  until,  at  last,  it  brightened 
into  perfect  day.  The  majestic,  large-hearted  nature 
of  the  first  patriarch,  and  the  gentler,  calmer  disposi- 
tion of  the  second — nay,  even  that  subtle  and  invent- 
ive mind  of  Jacob,  of  which  the  faculties  were  often  so 
unworthily  misused — all  were  rectified  and  perfected ; 
and,  at  length,  freed  from  every  thing  that  was  pol- 
luted, and  guileful,  and  infirm,  were  prepared  for  an 
honourable  entrance  into  the  regions  of  the  blessed 
dead.  Thus,  thoughtfully  contemplating  their  history, 
we  recognize  it  as  having  been  set  before  us  to  sanc- 
tion and  illustrate  the  domestic  order,  as  well  as  to 
encourage  all  who  are  now,  amidst  the  trials  of  that 
appointment,  earnestly  and  loyally  pursuing  their  end- 
less path  into  the  future."* 

In  the  life  of  Daniel  we  have  an  illustrious  ex- 
ample  of   the   union    of  business    and     „    .  , 

r  Daniel ;    Becnilar 

devotion — an    example    which    shames  vout^pfltyTn  iia?I 
alike  those  who  flee  from  business  in  ^°^^' 
order  to  be  devout,  and  those  who,  professing  to  be 
devout,  do  not  imbue  their  business  with  the  spirit  of 
devotion. 

The  incidents  of  Daniel's  history  are  well  known, 
and  need  not  be  recited.  In  the  very  first  of  them 
the  young  man's  heart  is  laid  bare  before  us — and 
there  we  find,  in  full  possession  of  his  soul,  a  tender 
conscientiousness  whose  only  question  is,  "What  is 
duty?  and  whose  only  fear  is  sin.  This  it  is  that 
preserves  him  from  defilement.  He  was  still  a  young 
man  when  he  rose  to  the  dignity  and  power  of  the 
office   of  prime   minister   of   the    king    of  Babylon; 

*  G.  S.  Drew :  "  Scripture  Studies." 


118  THE  world's  work. 

but  his  elevation  did  not  injure  the  purity  and  sim- 
plicity of  his  character.  Men  often  gather  the  robes 
of  integrity  more  closely  around  them  while  the  storm 
rages,  and  then  wantonly  cast  them  away  when  the 
sun  shines.  Those  whom  no  force  of  terror  can  drive 
from  the  right  path  are  insensibly  drawn  from  it  by 
the  loadstone  of  pleasure.  But,  towards  the  end  of 
the  administration  of  Daniel  under  Nebuchadnezzar, 
there  appears  no  change  in  his  character,  except  the 
manly  ripening  of  his  graces  and  virtues.  The  spirit 
in  which  he  announced  to  his  royal  master  his  ap- 
proaching doom  combines  in  it  all  the  tenderness  and 
simplicity  of  the  child,  with  all  the  heroic  boldness 
and  honesty  of  the  man.  His  words*  are  the  words 
of  one  who  would  have,  and  who  Tiadj  a  conscience 
void  of  offence  both  towards  God  and  towards  man. 

For  thirty  years  from  this  period,  or  thereabouts, 
Daniel  occupies  no  public  post.  But  he  is  drawn 
out  of  obscurity  to  interpret  the  handwriting  in  the 
banqueting  hall  of  Belshazzar,  and  appears  at  once  in 
his  old  character — bold  in  denouncing  even  royal  im- 
pieties, yet  gentle  and  disinterested  as  ever.  Under 
Darius,  the  Median  conqueror,  he  becomes  the  first 
of  the  three  presidents  to  whom  the  whole  empire  is 
rendered  subject.  He  is  about  to  be  still  further 
exalted,  and  to  have  the  entire  presidentship  put  into 
his  hands,  when  the  jealousy  of  the  other  presidents  and 
of  the  one  hundred  and  twenty  princes  is  awakened, 
and  they  conspire  to  ruin  him.  *'  But,'^  says  the 
history,  "they  could  find  none  occasion  nor  fault; 
forasmuch  as  he  was  faithful,  neither  was  there  any 
error  or  fault  found  in  him.  Then  said  these  men, 
We  shall  not    find  any  occasion  against  this  Daniel, 

*  Dauid  iv.  19,  27. 


DANIEL   AS   A   MAN    OF   BUSINESS.  119 

except  we  find   it   against  him  concerning  the  law  of 
his  God."* 

Daniel  then  was  a  thorough  man  of  business,  and  a 
thorough  man  of  God  at  the  same  time.  He  did  not 
think  it  beneath  him  to  pay  attention,  minute  and 
exact,  to  all  the  affairs  and  accounts  that  belonged  to 
his  department.  And  such  was  his  exactitude  and 
integrity,  that  neither  flaw  nor  error  could  be  found  in 
his  administration.  But  it  was  the  fear  of  God  that 
made  him  the  good  man  of  business  that  he  was.  He 
might  have  been  able  and  skilful  without  it,  but  pro- 
bably not  faithful.  In  one  year  he  might  have  amassed, 
at  the  expense  of  others,  wealth  which  would  have 
served  him  a  lifetime.  And  had  he  done  so,  he  would 
only  have  been  following  the  universal  practice;  but 
among  the  faithless  he  was  faithful.  There  was  a 
power  of  resistance  to  evil,  and  a  power  of  constraint 
to  well-doing,  in  his  heart,  to  which  his  fellow-presi- 
dents were  strangers;  a  mighty,  all-pervading  power 
wliich  purified  his  heart,  and  made  his  life  pure  like- 
wise. How  the  enemies  of  Daniel  would  have  exulted 
if  they  could  have  gone  to  their  king  and  said,  "  Thy 
first  president  is  very  devout;  he  serves  the  God 
of  his  fathers  with  much  incense  and  prayer;  but  he 
robs  thy  subjects,  he  robs  thy  treasure,  0  king!" 
But  this  they  could  not.  They  had  not  the  smallest 
pivot  on  which  to  place  the  lever  of  their  malice. 
Daniel  was  a  good  man  in  the  widest  and  largest  sense 
of  the  word,  faithful  to  the  sovereign  above  him,  faith- 
ful to  the  subjects  beneath  him.  Like  Samuel,  he 
could  have  stood  up  before  the  assembled  empire  and 
say,  ^'Behold,  here  I  am;  witness  against  me  before 
the   Lord,   whose    ox    have    I   taken  ?    or   whose    ass 

*  Daniel  vi.  4,  5. 


12Q  THE  world's  work. 

have  I  taken  ?  or  whom  have  I  defrauded  ?  whom 
have  I  oppressed  ?  or  of  whose  hand  have  I  received 
any  bribe  to  blind  mine  eyes  with  ?  "  And  the  uni- 
versal verdict  would  have  been,  "  Thou  hast  not 
defrauded  us,  nor  oppressed  us,  neither  hast  thou 
taken  aught  of  any  man's  hands."  No;  Daniel  was  a 
saint,  not  more  in  the  oratory  of  his  devotions  than  in 
the  daily  transactions  of  the  Babylonish  presidency. 
There  was  no  pretence  about  him.  He  did  his  duty 
like  an  honest  man,  and  by  the  transparent  purity  of 
his  -character  defied  his  enemies. 

A  thorough  man  of  God,  we  have  said,  as  well  as  a 
thorough  man  of  business.  "  We  shall  not  find  any 
occasion  against  this  Daniel,"  said  his  enemies, 
"  except  we  find  it  against  him  concerning  the  law  of 
his  God."  Was  he  then  unfaithful  to  his  God  ?  Now 
that  he  was  clothed  with  honour  and  power,  had  he 
conformed  to  the  worship  of  Babylon?  No;  this 
would  have  been  no  ofi'ence.  Let  him  worship  the 
emperor,  or  worship  the  sun,  or  worship  Belus,  and  all 
would  have  been  well.  But  he  was  faithful  to  his  God. 
In  no  instance  was  there  discovered,  on  his  part,  any 
dalliance  with  idols  or  with  the  pollutions  of  idol  wor- 
ship. Gentle  and  amiable  as  he  was,  he  was  firm  as 
a  rock  in  all  that  pertained  to  the  service  of  his  God. 
And  here  it  was  that  his  enemies  found  the  chance  of 
effecting  his  ruin.  Break  him  they  might,  but  bend 
him  they  could  not.  And  if  they  might  only  entrap 
their  sovereign  into  a  decree  which  would,  unwittingly 
to  him,  involve  Daniel  in  its  meshes,  they  were  sure, 
they  thought,  to  overthrow  the  man  whose  goodness 
was  more  hateful  than  his  person. 

What  they  did,  and  how  far  they  succeeded,  need 
not  be  told.     The  Babylonish  princes  could  live  for 


WILLIAM   WILBERFORCE.  121 

thirty,  and  twice  thirty  days,  without  addressing  one 
prayer  to  a  higher  than  Darius.  But  Daniel  could  not; 
nor  could  he  be  guilty  of  the  hypocrisy  of  seeming  to 
comply  with  the  impious  terms  of  the  royal  statute. 
"  When  he  knew  that  the  writing  was  signed,  he  went 
into  his  house;  and  his  windows  being  open  in  his 
chamber  toward  Jerusalem,  he  kneeled  upon  his  knees 
three  times  a  day,  and  prayed  and  gave  thanks  before 
his  God  as  he  did  heretofore;"  nor  had  he  any  inti- 
mation that  Grod  would  command  the  lions  to  do  his 
prophet  no  harm.  The  good  man  concerned  himself 
only  with  duty,  and  left  all  consequences  in  His  hands 
whose  servant  he  was. 

Daniel  was  thus  faithful  to  his  God  in  circumstances 
of  the  most  opposite  kinds.  He  sat  in  the  president's 
chair  unchanged.  The  warm  sun  of  fortune  (as  some 
would  call  it)  did  not  melt  or  soften  him  down  into  a 
pliable  courtier,  or  a  luxurious  man  of  the  world.  Its 
beams  wrought  no  harm  in  him.  He  was  still  faithful 
to  his  God.  And  then  when  that  sun  was  clouded, 
and  the  man,  who  had  basked  in  it  to  the  envy  of  all 
his  compeers  and  rivals,  stood  on  the  very  verge  of 
martyrdom,  he  still  pursued  the  even  tenor  of  his  way 
unchanged.  The  lions'  roar  moved  him  as  little  as  the 
syren's  song. 

The  "  world's  work  "  which  devolved  on  William 
WiLBERFORCE  was  related  to  govern- 

n  ^       .1       ,  -1      •  William  Wilber- 

ment  as  was  that  of  Daniel,  though  in  ^^rce;  born  in  1759; 

'  o  died  in  1838. 

a  different  way;  and  the  modern  philan- 
thropist performed   it  in  the  same  spirit  as  did  the 
ancient  prophet.    With  as  wide  a  circumstantial  diver- 
sity as  can  well  be  imagined,  we  can  trace  between 
11 


122  THE  world's  work. 

them  a  close  spiritual  resemblance: — liow,  when  a  boy, 
y/ilberforce  was  taken  away  from  the  care  of  a  pious 
aunt,  to  prevent  his  being  infected  with  the  contagion  of 
her  religious  principles — how  he  was  initiated  into  the 
mysteries  of  the  theatre  and  ball-room,  as  more  fitting 
for  his  station — how  he  spent  his  youth,  at  home  and 
at  the  university,  as  a  devotee  of  youthful  pleasure 
— how  he  was  returned  to  Parliament,  amidst  much 
popular  triumph,  as  member  for  his  native  town,  when 
only  one-and-twenty  years  of  age,  and  was  courted  in 
fashionable  circles,  and  flattered  by  royalty — how,  by 
providential  leadings  of  apparently  the  most  casual 
order,  and  by  the  study  of  Holy  Scripture,  he  was 
awakened  out  of  the  dream  of  his  youth,  and  became 
an  earnest-minded  Christian,  may  be  read  elsewhere. 
Our  present  concern  with  him  is  at  this  point  of  his 
history,  and,  henceforward,  in  relation  to  the  world's 
work.  He  had  not,  even  in  his  most  frivolous  days, 
abandoned  himself  to  licentiousness;  but  the  deep  guilt 
and  black  ingratitude  of  his  past  life,  to  use  his  own 
words,  forced  itself  upon  him  in  the  strongest  colours ; 
and  he  condemned  himself  for  having  wasted  his  pre- 
cious time,  and  opportunities,  and  talents.  The  thought 
of  having  so  long  neglected  his  God  and  Saviour 
brought  him  into  a  state  of  the  deepest  depression 
from  strong  convictions  of  his  guilt.  "  Nothing'/'  he 
says,  "  which  I  have  ever  read  in  the  accounts  of  others 
exceeded  what  I  then  felt."  How  should  he  act  now  ? 
Like  so  many  others,  should  he  flee  into  a  monastery 
to  save  his  soul  ?  No ;  ^e  fled  to  the  cross  of  Christ, 
and  found  salvation  and  peace  there.  But,  now  at 
peace  with  God,  he  must  live  a  new  life,  such  a  life  as 
lie  had  not  lived  before — a  devout  life,  a  spiritual  life. 


WILBERFORCE    NOT    AN    ASCETIC.  123 

Must  he,  in  order  to  this,  flee  into  a  monastery  to  give 
him  leisure  for  its  cultivation,  and  to  save  him  from 
the  tainted  breath  of  the  world's  communications? 
Not  so :  he  will  remain  in  the  world,  but  will  not  be 
of  it.  He  wrote  to  his  principal  friends,  informing 
them  he  was  not  what  he  had  been.  "  Some  treated 
the  announcement  as  the  effect  of  a  temporary  depres- 
sion^ which  social  intercourse  would  soon  relieve  :  one 
threw  his  letter  angrily  into  the  fire  :  others,  knowing 
that  his  past  life  had  not  been  vicious,  imagined  that 
he  could  but  turn  ascetic,  and  regretted  the  expected 
loss  of  his  social  accomplishments  and  political  assist- 
ance.'^ The  statesman,  his  friend,  William  Pitt,  has- 
tened to  Wimbledon  to  cheer  him  out  of  his  fancies. 
For  two  hours  the  friends  discussed  their  differences. 
The  man  of  the  world  tried  to  reason  the  young 
Christian  out  of  his  convictions,  but  soon  found  him- 
self unable  to  combat  their  correctness,  if  he  admitted 
that  Christianity  was  true. 

To  the  mother  who,  when  he  was  yet  a  child,  rescued 
him  from  what  she  deemed  fanaticism,  he  wrote  in 
terms  which  breathed  affection  and  decision.  If  we 
really  make  the  Bible  the  criterion  of  our  opinions  and 
actions,  he  said,  ''  We  must  reckon  on  not  finding  our- 
selves able  to  comply  with  all  those  customs  of  the 
world  in  which  many  who  call  themselves  Christians 
are  too  apt  to  indulge  without  reflection." 

Accordingly,  he  withdrew  his  steps  from  every 
haunt  of  worldly  mirth;  but  not  to  shut  himself  up 
either  in  his  closet  in  town,  or  in  his  hermitage  in  the 
country,  and  there  cultivate  a  hot-house  piety.  "  No, 
my  dear  mother,"  he  wrote;  "in  my  circumstances 
this  would  merit  no  better  name  than  desertion.  It 
is  my  constant  prayer  that  God  will  enable  me  to 


124  THE  world's  work. 

serve  him  more  steadily,  and  my  fellow-creatures 
more  assiduously.  And  I  trust  that  my  prayers  will  be 
granted,  through  the  intercession  of  that  Saviour,  by 
whom  only  we  have  access  with  confidence  into  this 
grace  wherein  we  stand ;  and  who  has  promised  that 
he  will  lead  on  his  people  from  strength  to  strength, 
and  gradually  from  thence  to  a  more  complete  resem- 
blance to  their  Divine  Original."  His  duty  to  his 
Saviour,  and  his  duty  to  his  fellow-creatures,  were 
performed  side  by  side,  or  rather  were  blended  into 
one  by  the  principle  of  doing  every  thing  as  unto  the 
Lord. 

His  progress  in  that  resemblance  to  his  Divine 
Original,  which  he  says  was  the  subject  of  his  constant 
prayers,  was  not  retarded  by  the  part  which  he  took 
in  the  world's  work,  while  that  part  was  sanctified  and 
ennobled  by  the  Christian  motives  which  actuated 
him.  ^'  As  a  politician,  he  could  no  longer  wheel  round 
in  the  circle  of  party;  he  could  no  longer,  even  to  a 
limited  extent,  take  his  opinions  in  the  mass  from  the 
faction  to  which  he  belonged.  ?Ie  told  Pitt  he  would 
still  support  him  when  he  could ;  but  that  he  was  no 
longer  to  be  a  party  man,  even  to  the  same  extent  as 
before.  '  The  first  years  that  I  was  in  Parliament,' 
he  said  in  after-life,  '  I  did  nothing — nothing,  I  mean, 
to  any  good  purpose;  my  own  distinction  was  my 
darling  object.'  But,  on  his  becoming  a  Christian,  he 
acted  on  new  principles.  His  powerful  mind,  his 
eloquence  in  speech,  his  influence  with  Mr.  Pitt,  his 
general  popularity,  were  now  all  as  talents  lent  to  him 
by  Grod.  And  for  his  work,  whatever  it  might  be,  he 
lost  no  time  in  preparing  himself.  He  set  about 
the  task  of  concentrating  his  faculties,  and  enriching 
his  intellectual  stores;   he  turned  to  study  with  an 


WILLIAM   WILBERFORCE.  12$ 

earnestness  he  had  never  hitherto  known ;  ahove  all, 
he  commenced  the  careful  and  uninterrupted  study  of 
Holy  Writ."  The  peculiar  work  which  Providence  gave 
him  to  do  in  the  English  legislature  was  great  and 
glorious ;  but,  if  it  had  been  less  so  in  its  own  nature, 
it  would  still  have  been  holy  work,  being  performed  in 
the  fear  of  God.  The  spirit  which  he  carried  into  the 
senate  is  well  described  by  Lord  Brougham.  "  He 
was  fearful  of  giving  the  least  pain  in  any  quarter, 
even  while  heated  with  the  zeal  of  controversy  on 
questions  that  roused  all  his  passions;  and  more 
anxious,  if  it  were  possible,  to  gain  over,  rather  than 
to  overpower,  an  adversary ;  disarming  him  by  kind- 
ness or  the  force  of  reason,  or  awakening  appeals  to 
his  feelings,  rather  than  defeating  him  by  hostile 
attacks."  When  a  well-known  popular  member 
designated  him,  repeatedly  and  irregularly,  as  "  the 
honourable  and  religious  gentleman/'  Mr.  Wilberforce 
poured  out  a  strain  of  sarcasm  which,  says  Lord 
Brougham,  "  none  who  heard  it  can  ever  forget ; " 
"  not,"  says  his  lordship,  "  because  he  was  ashamed  of 
the  cross  he  gloried  in,  but  because  he  felt  indignant 
at  any  one  in  the  British  senate  deeming  piety  a  matter 
of  imputation."  ''  A  common  friend  of  the  parties 
having  remarked  to  Sir  Samuel  Romilly,  beside  whom 
he  sat,  that  this  greatly  outmatched  Pitt  himself,  the 
great  master  of  sarcasm,  Sir  Samuel  replied,  ^  Yes,  it 
is  the  most  striking  thing  I  almost  ever  heard ;  but  I 
look  on  it  as  a  more  singular  proof  of  Wilberforce's 
virtue  than  of  his  genius ;  for  who,  but  he,  ever  was 
possessed  of  such  a  formidable  weapon  and  never  used 
it '{ ' "  He  was  a  Christian  in  the  legislature  as  well  as 
at  the  table  of  the  Lord  j  and  in  the  one  he  practised 
the  lessons  which  he  learned  at  the  other. 
11* 


126  THE  world's  work. 

If  there  is  one  earthly  position  more  than  another 
in  which  it  might  be  supposed  that  true  religion  could 
not  live  or  prosper,  it  is  among  the  temptations  of  a 
soldier's  life.  And  yet  even  this  position  supplies 
us  with  many  illustrations  of  the  power  and  beauty  of 
religion.  Be  the  truth  what  it  may,  on  the  question 
which  has  been  agitated  respecting  the  lawfulness  of 
war,  it  cannot  be  questioned  that  many  warriors  have 
been  eminent  Christians.  The  camp  and  the  battle- 
field do  not  extinguish  the  power  of  religion.  And 
this  is  the  point  of  our  present  reference  to  the 
subject. 

It  was  of  a  Roman  centurion  our  Lord  said,  "  I  have 
not  found  so  great  faith,  no,  not  in  Israel."  And  it 
was  in  the  person  of  another  Koman  centurion  that 
the  Gentiles  were  admitted  to  the  full  privileges  of  the 
Christian  church.  Cornelius  was  "  a  just  man,  and  one 
that  feared  God,'^  and  was  honoured,  like  the  peaceful 
shepherd  patriarchs  of  the  Jewish  nation,  with  a  visit 
by  an  angel,  who  was  commissioned  to  tell  him,  "  Thy 
prayer  is  heard.''  And  it  was  in  reference  to  this 
Roman  captain  and  his  kinsmen  and  near  friends  that 
Peter  said,  ''  Can  any  man  forbid  water,  that  these 
should  not  be  baptized,  which  have  received  the  Holy 
Ghost  as  well  as  we  ?  " 

The  names  of  Colonel  Blackader,  Colonel  Gardiner, 
and  Major-General  Andrew  Burn,  have  long  been 
known  as  the  names  of  eminent  Christians.  And  re- 
cent biography  has  added  largely  to  the  number  of 
godly  men  who  have  served  Christ  in  a  soldier's  life. 
Captain  Hedley  Vicars,  Sir  Henry  Havelock,  Colonel 
Mountain,  Captain  Hammond,  Captain  Bate,  and 
others,  are  now  well  known  by  their  memoirs.  We  take 
the  history  and  character  of  two  of  this  holy  band,  as 


CAPTAIN  HEDLEY  VICARS.         127 

*'  men  representative"  of  many  who  are  like  minded 
in  the  great  concerns  of  Christian  faith  and  practice. 

In  approaching  the  lives  of  Hedley  Vicars  and 
General  Havelock,  one  is  forcibly  reminded  of  the 
words  of  Cowper's  hymn,  "  God  moves  in  a  mysterious 
way/'  One  of  these  Christian  worthies  was  descended 
from  a  Spanish  cavalier,  who  came  to  England  in  the 
suite  of  Katharine  of  Arragon,  the  first  queen  of 
Henry  the  Eighth ;  the  other,  according  to  some 
local  traditions,  from  a  Norse  sea-king,  or  pirate,  who 
crossed  the  sea  and  found  a  home  on  the  coast  of  Lin- 
coln, centuries  before.  Had  the  Spanish  Don  Vicaro 
and  the  Norwegian  Hafluck  possessed  the  seer's  gift, 
it  would  have  puzzled  them  not  a  little  to  understand 
the  character  of  those  illustrious  descendants  of  theirs, 
whom  the  Christian  England  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury delights  to  honour. 

Hedley  Vicars  was  a  wayward  boy,  open-hearted 
and  generous,  high-spirited   and  fear- 
less, loved  and  loving,  and  yet  thought-  rifiu8?D^e.^7,  islel 

.  died  before  Sebas- 

less  as  the  idle  wind.  When  twelve  to^poi.  Maren  22, 
years  old,  his  father's  dying  hand  was 
laid  upon  his  head  with  the  earnest  prayer,  "  that 
he  might  be  a  good  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  so 
fight  manfully  under  his  banner  to  glorify  his  holy 
name."  But  hope  deferred  had  often  made  his  widowed 
mother's  heart  sick  before  that  prayer  was  answered. 
For  years  after  he  entered  the  army,  he  lived  a  life  of 
general  recklessness,  chequered  with  occasional  con- 
victions of  sin,  which  resulted  in  vigorous  though 
short-lived  efforts  at  reform.  But,  from  the  hour  of 
his  conversion  to  Christ,  his  life  was  pure  and  holy. 
All  that  was  buoyant  and  genial  in  his  natural  temper 


128  THE  world's  work. 

was  sanctified  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  won  the  hearts 
of  all  who  were  not  repelled  by  his  religion.  At  home 
and  abroad  his  face  seenaed  a  signal  for  cheerfulness. 
"  He  walked  in  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  sons  of  God, 
and  with  the  free  heart  of  a  child  enjoyed  every  plea- 
sure in  the  gift  of  which  he  could  trace  his  Father's 
hand  j  yet  was  there  still  the  evidence  in  his  daily  life 
of  a  chastened  and  sober  spirit,  and  of  his  steadfast 
obedience  to  his  Master's  word,  *  Watch  and  pray.' " 

"  Since  Mr.  Vicars  became  so  good,"  said  one  of  the 
light  company  of  the  97th,  years  after  the  great  change 
took  place,  and  a  few  days  before  his  embarkation  for 
Greece  and  the  Crimea,  "  he  has  steadied  about  four 
hundred  men  in  the  regiment."  ''Four  hundred?" 
was  repeated  with  surprise  by  the  lady  to  whom  the 
statement  was  made.  "  I  don't  mean,"  said  the  man, 
*'  that  he  has  made  all  the  four  hundred  as  good  as 
himself.  That  he  couldn't.  I  know  enough  of  reli- 
gion to  know  that  God  alone  could  do  that.  But  while 
he  was  adjutant,  and  since  too,  he  has  sobered  and 
steadied  nigh  four  hundred  of  the  drunkenmost  and 
wildest  men  in  the  regiment.  There  isn't  a  better  man 
or  a  better  officer  in  the  Queen's  service," 

The  miseries  of  the  winter  spent  by  the  English  and 
French  armies  before  Sebastopol  have  now  passed  into 
history.  It  was  in  the  midst  of  them,  on  the  mud 
floors  of  the  hospital  tents,  that  Hedley  Yicars's  faith 
was  to  have  its  last  trial.  Sharing  as  he  did,  in  no 
small  measure,  the  general  toil  and  privation,  with  the 
superadded  amount  of  suffering  inseparable  from  his 
power  of  strong  sympathy,  he  was  ever  fulfilling  the 
apostolic  injunction,  "  Bear  ye  one  another's  burdens." 
His  faith  was  not  permitted  to  waver.  Through  the 
long  dark  night  of  that  winter,  its  lamp  never  wanted 


HEDLEY   VICARS    IN   THE   CRIMEA.  129 

oil,  but  burned  with  a  clear  and  steady  light  which 
not  only  cheered  those  around,  but  also  cast  its  bright 
reflection  upon  praying  spirits  three  thousand  miles 
distant.  It  has  been  remarked,  says  his  biographer, 
by  a  keen  observer  of  human  nature,  who  himself 
passed  through  the  same  ordeal,  that,  in  the  course  of 
that  winter,  the  individual  characteristics  of  men  stood 
out  in  more  striking  colours  than  could  have  been  seen 
under  other  circumstances.  The  selfish  became  more 
tenaciously  selfish  than  before,  whilst  those  who  were 
capable  of  rising  to  the  heights  of  self-denial  lived  a 
life  of  daily  heroism. 

Hedley  Vicars  was  one  of  the  last.  During  the 
severe  cold  of  that  winter,  the  only  bed  he  allowed 
himself  was  made  of  stones  and  leaves,  until  a  fur  rug 
arrived  from  England,  which  he  felt  was  invested  with 
a  kind  of  claim  of  friendship  to  be  retained  for  his  own 
use.  Everything  else  which  could  bear  the  name  of 
luxury,  or  even  of  common  comfort,  was  given  to  the 
deeper  necessities  of  the  sufi'ering  soldiers. 

When  in  command  of  an  outpost,  he  and  his  men 
had  to  sleep  for  three  weeks  in  the  open  air,  or  at  least 
under  roofing  made  of  bushes,  through  which  the  wind 
and  rain  freely  penetrated.  At  length,  however,  two 
tents  were  pitched, — one  for  the  company,  the  other 
for  its  officer.  But  that  officer  gave  up  his  own  tent 
to  his  men,  and  continued  to  rough  it  in  the  open  air, 
considering  himself  more  hardy  than  many  of  them. 
The  presence  of  Christ  was  his  support  and  joy. 

After  some  months  of  '^  weariness  and  painfulness,'' 
but  of  spiritual  labours  and  spiritual  enjoyment 
^'  more  abundant,''  Hedley  Vicars  received  a  soldier's 
summons  into  the  presence  of  God.  "  The  night  of  the 
22nd  of  March  was  dark  and  dreary.     The  wind  rose 


130  THE    world's    work. 

high  and  swept  in  stormy  gusts  across  the  Crimea. 
There  was  for  a  time  a  stilhiess  over  the  three 
armies,  like  the  calm  before  the  tempest.  At  the 
advanced  post  of  the  British  forces,  was  a  detachment 
of  the  97th  Kegiment,  commanded  bj  Captain  Vicars. 
No  watch-fire  on  that  post  of  danger  might  cast  its  red 
light,  as  aforetime,  upon  the  Book  of  God.  Yet  was 
that  place  of  peril  holy  ground.  Once  more  the  night 
breeze  bore  away  the  hallowed  sounds  of  prayer." 
When  he  fell  his  men  fought  their  way  through  the 
ranks  of  the  Russians  to  defend  the  parting  life  of  the 
leader  whom  they  loved,  and  in  their  arms  they  bore 
him  back ;  but  before  they  reached  the  door  of  his  tent 
with  their  precious  charge  his  life  had  ebbed. 

In  Hedley  Vicars  we  see  the  grace  of  God  in  no 
dim  and  doubtful  manner.  "  Every  one,"  wrote  a 
fellow-officer,  while  weeping  over  his  cold  corpse  the 
morning  after  his  death,  — "  Every  one  liked  and 
respected  Vicars ;  even  those  who  did  not  agree  with 
his  strict  religion ;  and  those  who  had  known  him  so 
long  as  the  leader  of  every  mad  riot,  when  after  closely 
watching  him  for  years,  and  finding  that  once  enlisted 
in  Christ's  army  he  never  flinched,  at  least  gave  in, 
and  acknowledged  that  Vicars,  at  any  rate,  was  a  true 
Christian."  "  Rough  hands  wiped  the  starting  tear 
away,"  when  the  name  of  Vicars  was  mentioned  on  the 
sad  morrow  of  his  death.  And  now  that  name  is  dear 
to  tens  of  thousands  who  had  not  known  it  while  he 
lived,  but  have  heard  of  the  grace  of  God  in  him  since 
the  fatal  conflict  on  the  heights  of  Sebastopol. 


Henry  Haveioek ;       The  life  and  character  of  the  lamented 

born     at      Bishop- 

wearrnouth^.M>Hi  g'j,  Henry   Havelock   illustrate  the 
fel4.T8b7!°^''"-  compatability  of   the  highest  religious 


EARLY  LIFE  OF  HENRY  HAVELOCK.     131 

character  with  busy  occupation  in  the  most  adverse 
of  this  world's  pursuits,  and  show  how  the  principles 
of  such  a  character  animate  and  ennoble  the  perform- 
ance of  this  world's  duties.  In  boyhood,  Henry 
Haveiock  was  distinguished  both  for  fearlessness  and 
for  thoughtfulness.  The  former  was  exhibited  in  many 
youthful  feats;  the  latter  acquired  for  him  the  title 
of  "  old  philosopher"  among  his  companions  at  the 
Charterhouse  School. 

''  The  most  important  part  of  the  history  of  any  man 
is  his  connection  through  faith,  with  the  invisible 
world.  So  of  Henry  Haveiock  it  may  be  recorded, 
that  there  were  early  indications  of  the  strivings  of 
the  good  Spirit  of  God  in  his  soul,  though  Satan  and 
the  world  were  permitted  for  many  years  to  triumph." 
So  he  testified  himself  in  later  life.  In  those  early 
days  at  the  Charterhouse  young  Haveiock  and  some 
of  his  companions  were  wont  to  meet  in  one  of  their 
sleeping-rooms  for  religious  purposes.  Sermons  were 
read,  and  conversations  ensued  upon  the  reading,  as  to 
the  bearing  of  the  truth  on  their  own  conduct.  But 
the  early  promise  thus  awakened  was  not  immediately 
realized. 

In  1815,  young  Haveiock  ^^  yielded,"  to  use  his  own 
words,  "  to  the  military  propensities  of  his  race,"  by 
asking  his  brother,  who  was  then  in  the  army,  to  get 
a  commission  for  him.  And  one  month  after  the 
battle  of  Waterloo  he  was  appointed  second  lieutenant 
in  the  rifle  brigade. 

In  January,  1823,  he  embarked  for  India.  And  it 
was  on  the  voyage  thither,  thirteen  years  after  the 
grave  had  closed  upon  the  pious  mother  who  first 
taught  him  to  lisp  the  name  of  Jesus,  that  he  became 
a  decided  follower  of  the  Saviour.     At  the  time  of  his 


132  THE  world's  work. 

embarkation  he  was  in  the  position  of  a  man  "  feeling 
after  God,  if  haply  he  might  find  him."  The  chief 
means  in  leading  him  to  Christ  was  the  conversation 
of  James  Gardner,  a  fellow-lieutenant.  And  from  the 
time  of  his  religious  decision,  he  was  not  ashamed  to 
own  his  Heavenly  Master,  but  was  concerned  only  to 
walk  worthy  of  his  name.  He  was  not  less  a  man  now 
that  he  was.  a  Christian,  nor  less  a  soldier,  but  sought 
to  perform  his  duties  as  both  a  man  and  a  soldier  in 
the  fear  of  God.  Luther's  hymn  may  be  regarded  as 
his  motto  from  this  time  forward  : — 

"  Put  thou  thy  trust  in  God : 
In  duty's  paths  go  on: 
Fix  on  his  word  thy  steadfast  eye; 
So  shall  thy  work  be  done." 

"  He  was  a  man  who  really  believed,  and  who,  seeing 
the  path  of  duty,  held  consequences  as  light  as  air. 
His  piety  underlaid  his  whole  character.  There  could 
be  but  one  path — that  of  duty ;  and  therefore  he  was 
never  undecided.  There  could  be  but  one  object  of 
fear — sin  ;  and  personal  danger  was  as  the  idle  wind. 
There  could  be  but  One  that  ruled — that  was  the 
Most  High  God ;  wherefore  exaltation  and  despondency 
were  alike  impossible." 

About  ten  years  after  entering  the  service,  Havelock 
applied  for  the  vacant  adjutancy  of  the  13th.  But 
his  psalm-singing  had  given  offence  to  some  ofiicers  of 
the  corps,  who  did  not  fail  to  send  unfavourable  repre- 
sentations to  Lord  William  Bentinck  to  prevent  the 
appointment.  On  the  receipt  of  these  letters  Lord 
William  called  for  a  return  of  the  number  of  punish- 
ments inflicted  on  the  men  in  the  different  companies 
of  the  regiment,  within  a  given  time,  for  drunkenness 
and  irregularities ;  and  he  found  that  the  men  whose 


"every  inch  a  christian."  133 

religious  improvement  Havelock  had  been  assiduous 
in  promoting  were  the  best  behaved,  the  most  sober, 
and  the  most  orderly  men  in  the  corps.  When  an- 
nouncing his  decision  to  Mrs.  Havelock,  the  governor- 
general  said,  "  The  complaint  is  that  the  men  of  Have- 
lock's  company  are  Baptists.  I  only  wish  that  the 
whole  regiment  was  Baptist."  "  Not  unlike  the  case 
of  Daniel,"  says  the  Rev.  W.  Brock,  "  was  the  case  of 
Havelock  just  now.  No  occasion  could  be  found 
against  him,  except  it  could  be  found  against  him  con- 
cerning the  law  of  his  God.  And  when  that  came  to 
be  investigated,  it  turned  out  that  the  men  who  feared 
God  were  the  men  who  honoured  the  king.  The 
praying  soldiers  were  the  soldiers  who  had  not  deserved 
punishment.  The  fanatics  were  those  who  kept  them- 
selves away  from  the  canteen.  The  enthusiasts  were 
the  most  sober  and  the  best  behaved  of  all  their  com- 
rades. '  The  saints,'  by  the  most  faithful  of  all  tests 
— an  ofl&cial  military  return — were  the  honour  and 
the  safety  of  the  regiment  in  which  they  served." 

We  do  not  follow  the  history  of  Havelock's  military 
achievements.  Enough  for  our  purpose,  to  sum  up 
bis  character  in  the  emphatic,  though  homely,  words 
of  Lord  Hardinge  :  "  He  was  every  inch  a  soldier,  and 
every  inch  a  Christian."  To  be  a  soldier  of  a  high 
order  it  was  not  necessary  that  he  should  cease  to  be 
a  Christian ;  to  be  a  Christian  of  a  high  order  it  was 
not  necessary  that  he  should  cease  to  be  a  soldier. 
Whatsoever  reproach  or  worldly  loss  he  might  be  called 
to  bear  for  Christ's  sake,  he  was  content  to  bear  it;  he 
had  counted  the  cost.  Whatsoever  duties  devolved  on 
him  in  the  family,  in  the  camp,  and  in  the  field,  he 
would  discharge  them  all  as  under  the  great  Task- 
12 


134  THE  world's  work. 

master's  eye.  If  preserved  from  death,  when  horse 
after  horse  was  shot  under  him,  and  when  a  bag  of 
gunpowder  was  his  pillow,  with  fiery  bullets  falling 
thick  as  hailstones  around  him,  he  acknowledged  that 
it  was  by  the  kind  protection  of  his  Father  in  heaven. 
If,  after  many  hours  of  heroic  fight,  himself  and  his 
soldiers  stood  on  the  deserted  battle-field  in  the  proud 
consciousness  of  being  conquerors,  he  was  not  loath, 
but  forward  to  say,  "  Away  with  vain  glory.  Thanks 
to  Almighty  Grod  who  hath  given  us  the  victory." 

The  common  soldiery  of  a  standing  army  is,  perhaps, 
the  last  class  of  the  community  in  which  we  should 
expect  to  find  the  fruits  of  a  true  faith.  But,  blessed 
be  God,  even  there  we  find  them,  and  that  not  to  be 
transplanted  into  a  more  genial  clime  as  soon  as  they 
have  sprung  up,  but  prospering  in  the  most  adverse 
circumstances,  amid  the  withering  blights  of  the  worst 
associations.  ''  The  army,"  says  one*  who  can  speak 
from  experience,  ''  far  from  being  a  desert  waste,  where 
weeds  and  thorns  are  to  be  gathered,  is  a  field  in  which 
a  rich  harvest  may,  with  proper  culture,  be  reaped  to 
the  glory  of  God's  grace.  Such,  at  least,  I  have  found 
it  to  be ;  for  I  can  truly  say  that,  during  the  twelve 
years  that  I  have  been  a  military  chaplain,  I  have  seen 
far  more  to  encourage  me  in  sowing  the  seed  of  eternal 
life,  than  during  an  equal  period  of  my  ministry  among 
civilians." 

It  is  a  well-known  fact,  that  much  seed  of  divine" 
truth  is  ^'  choked"  and  rendered  unfruitful  by  "  the 
cares  of  this  world  and  the  deceitfulness  of  riches 
and   the  lusts  of  other   things."     And  solemnly  did 

*  Rev.  W.  Hare,  Chaplain  to  the  Forces. 


EARTHLY    DISCIPLINE.  135 

Christ  say  to  his  disciples,  "  Take  heed  to  yourselves, 
lest  at  any  time  your  hearts  be  overcharged  with 
surfeiting,  and  drunkenness,  and  cares  of  this  life,  and 
so  that  day  (of  the  Lord)  come  upon  you  unawares."* 
In  the  same  spirit  the  apostle  Paul  said,  "  They  that 
will  he  rich  (whose  hearts  are  set  on  riches)  fall  into 
temptation  and  a  snare,  and  into  many  foolish  and 
hurtful  lusts,  which  drown  men  in  destruction  and 
perdition. "f  But  neither  Christ  nor  his  servant  in- 
structed men  to  "  flee  from  men's  pursuits,'^  in  order 
to  avoid  the  evils  that  are  incident  to  them.  On  the 
contrary,  they  would  have  Christians  to  glorify  God 
by  being  "not  slothful  in  business"  while  "  fervent  in 
spirit."  And  examples  might  be  multiplied  without 
number  to  show  how  compatible  the  one  of  these  re- 
quirements is  with  the  other. 

The  seaman  makes  almost  every  wind  that  blows,  his 
servant  to  speed  him  on  his  voyage;  and  ships  maybe 
seen  daily  meeting  each  other,  and  sailing  in  opposite 
directions  by  the  help  of  the  same  breeze.  Earthly 
care  and  occupation  do  become  means  of  spiritual 
injury,  but  they  may,  and  by  the  Christian  ought 
to,  be  made  means  of  spiritual  good.  His  whole 
existence  on  earth  is  a  discipline.  The  joys  and 
sorrows,  and  hopes  and  fears,  of  this  life  are  designed 
as  means  of  education  for  another  state.  And  there 
must  be  some  mode  of  so  improving  worldly  labour 
and  care,  which  form  the  greater  part  of  the  staple  of 
human  life,  as  to  convert  it  from  an  enemy  of  spirit- 
uality into  means  of  grace. 

"  The  weight  of  a  clock,"  says  the  Rev.  John 
Caird,  "seems  a  heavy  drag  on  the  delicate  move- 
ments of  its  machinery ;  but  so  far  from  arresting  or 

*  Luke  sxi.  3i.  1 1  Timothy  vi.  9. 


136  THE  world's  work. 

impeding  those  movements,  it  is  indispensable  to  their 
steadiness,  balance,  accuracy :  there  must  be  some 
analogous  action  of  what  seems  the  clog  and  drag- 
weight  of  worldly  work  on  the  finer  movements  of 
man's  spiritual  being.  The  planets  in  the  heavens 
have  a  twofold  action, — in  their  orbits  and  on  their 
axes — the  one  motion  not  interfering,  but  carried  on 
simultaneously  and  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  other  j 
so  must  it  be  that  man's  twofold  activities — round  the 
heavenly  and  the  earthly  centre — disturb  not  nor  jar 
with  each  other.  He  who  diligently  discharges  the 
duties  of  the  earthly  may  not  less  sedulously — nay,  at 
the  same  moment — fulfil  those  of  the  heavenly  sphere; 
at  once  '  diligent  in  business'  and  '  fervent  in  spirit, 
serving  the  Lord.' " 

"  No  man  can  become  a  soldier  by  studying  books 
on  military  tactics  in  his  closet:  he  must  in  actual 
service  acquire  those  habits  of  coolness,  courage,  dis- 
cipline, address,  rapid  combination,  without  which  the 
most  learned  in  the  theory  of  strategy  or  engineering 
will  be  but  a  schoolboy  soldier  after  all.  And,  in  the 
same  way,  a  man  in  solitude  and  study  may  become  a 
most  learned  theologian,  or  may  train  himself  into  the 
timid,  efi"eminate  piety  of  what  is  technically  called 
the  ^religious  life;'  but  never  in  the  highest  and 
holiest  sense  can  he  become  a  religious  man,  until 
he  has  acquired  those  habits  of  daily  self-denial,  of 
resistance  to  temptation,  of  kindness,  gentleness, 
humility,  sympathy,  active  beneficence,  which  are  to 
be  acquired  only  in  daily  contact  with  mankind.  Tell 
us  not,  then,  that  the  man  of  business,  the  bustling 
tradesman,  the  toilworn  labourer,  has  little  or  no  time 
to  attend  to  religion.  As  well  tell  us  that  the  pilot, 
amid  the  winds  and  storms,  has  no  leisure  to  attend  to 


EARTHLY   CARE   A   HEAVENLY   DISCIPLINE.     137 

navigation ;  or  the  geueral,  on  the  field  of  battle,  to 
the  art  of  war.  Where  will  he  attend  to  it  ?  Keligioa 
is  not  a  perpetual  moping  over  good  books;  religion 
is  not  even  (merely)  prayer,  praise,  holy  ordinances. 
These  are  necessary  to  religion  :  no  man  is  religious 
without  them;  but  religion  (in  this  life)  is  mainly  and 
chiefly  the  glorifying  God  amid  the  duties  and  trials 
of  the  world  J  the  guiding  our  course  amid  the  adverse 
winds  and  currents  of  temptation,  by  the  starlight  of 
duty  and  the  compass  of  divine  truth ;  the  bearing  us 
manfully,  wisely,  courageously,  for  the  honour  of  Christ, 
our  great  Leader,  in  the  conflict  of  life.'' 

^'  How  then  shall  earthly  care  become  heavenly 
discipline?  How  shall  the  disposition  of  the  weight 
be  altered  so  as  to  press  the  spirit  upward  towards 
God,  instead  of  downward  and  away  ?"  This  can  be 
eff'ected  only  by  Christians  cherishing  a  genuine  and 
real  belief  in  the  presence  and  agency  of  God  in  the 
minor  events  and  details  of  life.  <'  To  the  Christian, 
who  really  believes  in  the  agency  of  God  in  the 
smallest  events  of  life,  confides  in  his  love  and 
makes  his  sympathy  his  refuge,  the  thousand  minute 
cares  and  perplexities  of  life  become  each  one  a 
fine  afiiliating  bond  between  the  soul  and  its  God. 
Christ  is  known,  not  by  abstract  definition  and  by 
high-raised  conceptions  of  the  soul's  aspiring  hours, 
but  known  as  a  man  knoweth  his  friend :  he  is 
known  by  the  hourly  wants  he  supplies;  known  by 
every  care  with  which  he  momentarily  sympathizes, 
every  apprehension  which  he  relieves,  every  temptation 
which  he  enables  us  to  surmount.  We  learn  to  know 
Christ  as  the  infant  child  learns  to  know  its  mother 
and  father — by  all  the  helplessness  and  all  the  de- 
pendence which  are  incident  to  this  commencement  of 
12* 


138  THE  world's  work. 

our  moral  existence ;  and  as  we  go  on  thus  year  by 
year,  and  find  in  every  changing  situation,  in  every 
reverse,  in  every  trouble,  from  our  lightest  sorrow  to 
those  sorrows  which  wring  our  soul  from  its  depths,  that 
he  is  equally  present,  and  that  his  gracious  aid  is 
equally  adequate;  our  faith  seems  gradually  almost 
to  change  to  sight,  and  Christ's  sympathy,  his  love 
and  care,  seem  to  us  more  real  than  any  other 
source  of  reliance ;  and  multiplied  cares  and  trials  are 
only  new  avenues  of  acquaintance  between  us  and 
heaven.'^ 

It  is  often  found  difficult  to  preserve  a  spirit  of 
deep  piety  in  a  life  of  labour  and  engrossing  care;  but 
it  would  be  still  more  difficult  in  a  life  of  indolence. 
"To  pass  our  lives  in  a  course  contrary  to  nature, 
even  the  heathen  would  have  told  us,  is  the  sure  way 
to  be  miserable;  and  it  is  the  sure  way  also  to  be 
wicked."  It  would  not  be  good  for  Christians  them- 
selves to  be  taken  out  of  the  world.  All  human 
affections  require  outward  circumstances  and  condi- 
tions, not  only  for  their  manifestations,  but  also  for 
their  exercise  and  development.  "  We  may  persuade 
ourselves,"  says  Professor  Whewell,  "  that  we  have 
faith ;  but  our  faith  is  not  genuine,  except  it  work  by 
love;  and  love  is  not  Christian  love,  except  it  can 
live,  and  love,  and  work  on,  through  those  clouds  of 
indiflPerence,  and  hatred,  and  jarring  wishes,  and  op- 
posing interests,  which  fill  the  atmosphere  of  the 
world.  These  clouds  are  the  atmosphere  of  the  world, 
but  they  are  also  the  atmosphere  in  which  the  Chris- 
tian spirit  is  tried.  The  world  breeds  them  :  the 
Christian  temper  dispels  them,  or,  at  least,  parts  them, 
makes  its  way  through  them  like  the  sun,  and  turns 
them  into  attendant  glories." 


"to    me    to    live    is    CHRIST."  139 

^'  To  me  to  live  is  Christ/'  said  the  apostle  Paul, 
and  it  was  in  no  fit  of  enthusiasm  he  said  it.  He  was 
not  standing  in  the  great  congregation,  and  carried 
away  by  excitement  to  use  language  which  a  more 
sober  judgment  would  condemn.  He  was  a  prisoner 
at  Rome,  when,  in  the  most  entire  calm  and  quiet,  in 
his  own  hired  house,  in  the  presence  only  of  his 
amanuensis,  of  the  soldier  that  guarded  him,  and 
perhaps  of  his  "  son "  Timothy,  he  said,  ''To  me  to 
live  is  Christ."  And  he  spoke  not  as  an  apostle,  but 
as  a  Christian.  And  his  successors  in  Christian  prin- 
ciple and  in  Christian  practice  are  to  be  found  not 
among  martyrs  and  confessors  merely,  but  among  all 
who  love  the  Saviour.  To  exempt  a  man  from  the 
obligation  of  "  living  to  Christ,"  or  deprive  him  of  the 
honour,  would  be  to  doom  his  heart  to  find  its  home 
and  happiness  in  things  seen  and  material.  Every 
true  Christian  is  a  successor  of  the  apostle  in  the  duty 
and  privilege  of  living  for  Christ.  And  it  cannot  be 
too  earnestly  maintained  that,  in  order  to  realize  this 
highest  end  of  existence,  it  is  not  necessary  that  a 
man  should  cease  to  work  with  his  hands,  and  give 
himself  up  to  religious  studies,  or  to  a  professional 
religious  calling.  It  is  only  needful  that  he  should 
subordinate  all  his  temporal  pursuits  to  the  honour  of 
Christ,  and  prosecute  them  in  obedience  to  his  will 
and  in  an  unworldly  spirit.  Necessity  may  be  laid  upon 
him  to  toil  much  and  long:  his  family  may  subject  him 
to  incessant  care  and  labour;  but  while  thus  employed 
it  is  quite  possible  to  be  able  to  say,  "  To  me  to  live 
is  Christ."  The  confessor  magnifies  Christ  before 
kings:  the  martyr  magnifies  Christ  at  the  stake;  but 
there  is  nothing  to  exclude  the  humblest  Christian 
from  the  goodly  fellowship  :  he  magnifies  Christ  in  the 


140  THE   world's   work. 

quiet  walks  of  life,  in  the  daily  labours  of  his  hands, 
and  in  the  sphere  of  his  own  domestic  circle.  And 
if  some  are  called  to  shine  as  lights  on  mountain  tops, 
illuminating  regions  far  and  wide  around,  private 
Christians  may  shine  in  the  secluded  valley,  and  illu- 
mine, by  their  holy  walk  and  limited  endeavours, 
some  small  sequestered  spot  which  the  blaze  of  the 
mountain  light  cannot  reach.  Let  no  man  deprive 
you,  Christian,  of  the  honour  and  blessedness  of  say- 
ing, '<  To  me  to  live  is  Christ."  And  let  your  own 
heart  never  shrink  from  the  felt  obligation,  that  for 
this  end  you  have  been  born  again,  that  Christ  may  be 
magnified  in  your  body  whether  by  life  or  by  death. 

"  Teach  me,  my  God  and  King, 
In  all  things  thee  to  see, 
And  what  I  do  in  anything, 
To  do  it  as  for  thee. 

"  A  man  that  looks  on  glass, 

On  it  may  stay  his  eye  ; 
Or,  if  he  pleaseth,  through  it  pass, 
And  then  the  heaven  espy. 

"  All  may  of  thee  partake : 

Nothing  can  be  so  mean, 
Which  with  this  tincture  'for  thy  sake* 
Will  not  grow  bright  and  clean. 

"  A  servant  with  this  clause 
Makes  drudgery  divine ; 
Who  sweeps  a  room,  as  for  thy  laws, 
Makes  that  an  action  fine. 

"  This  is  the  famous  stone 
That  turneth  all  to  gold; 
For  that  which  God  doth  touch  and  own 
Cannot  for  less  be  told." 


CHAPTER    III. 

SOCIAL  AVORK, 

Contents. — No  man  liveth  to  himself — What  shall  I  do? — 
Christian  women —Ancient  Rome — A  day  in  the  life  of 
Christ— Hannah  More — Sir  Edward  Parry  —  Havelock  — 
Sarah  Martin — Vanderkemp — Intercessory  prayer — George 
Wagner — Little  acts — Tertius — Baruch — The  one  talent — 
A  single  hymn — Curse  ye  Meroz — Montgomery's  Wayfaring 
Man. 


"  He  that  loveth  not  his  brother  whom  he  hath  seen,  how  can  he  love  God 
whom  he  hath  not  seen?  And  this  commandment  have  we  from  him,  That 
he  who  loveth  God  love  his  brother  also." — 1  John  iv.  20,  21. 

(141) 


"  He  who  plowed  and  who  sowed  is  not  missed  by  the  reaper  ; 

He  is  only  remembered  by  what  he  has  done. 

Not  myself,  but  the  truth  that  in  life  I  have  spoken, 

Not  myself,  but  the  seed  that  in  life  I  have  sown 

Shall  pass  on  to  ages ;  all  about  me  forgotten, 

Save  the  truth  I  have  spoken,  the  things  I  have  done. 

So  let  my  living  be,  so  be  my  dying, 

So  let  my  name  be,  unblazoned,  unknown. 

Unpraised  and  unmissed,  I  shall  still  be  remembered; 

Yes,  but  remembered  by  what  I  have  done." 

HoRATitra  BONAB. 
(142) 


SOCIAL    WORK. 

*'  No  man  liveth  to  himself."  The  most  selfish,  the 
most  solitary,  exercise  an  influence  beyond  themselves 
for  good  or  for  evil.  The  thoughts  they  think,  the 
words  they  speak,  the  very  looks  they  look,  however 
much  they  may  intend  them  to  be  bounded  by  the 
narrow  circle  they  draw  around  themselves,  pass  be- 
yond that  circle  without  asking  their  consent,  and 
tell  on  others  whom  they  have  no  desire  either  to 
benefit  or  harm.  Let  them  but  utter  a  word  and  it 
is  gone  from  them  for  ever  ;  they  cannot  recall  it,  if 
they  would  :  it  fulfils  its  mission,  whether  benign  or 
malign,  in  some  ear  and  on  some  heart;  and  thence  it 
proceeds  in  its  onward  progress,  cursing  or  blessing,  it 
may  be,  to  the  end  of  time.  And  even  if  men  should 
resolve  to  speak  no  word,  lest  the  spoken  word  should 
grow  and  multiply  in  fruits  which  they  do  not  desire, 
their  self-imposed  silence,  the  compressed  lip,  and  the 
unhappy  look  will  produce  some  impression  on  those 
who  witness  them — an  impression  which  will  not  ter- 
minate with  itself,  and  which  will  verify  the  social 
fact  that  no  one  liveth  unto  himself.  Our  example 
may  be  silent  and  unobtrusive,  but  it  cannot  be  wholly 
unobserved.  And  if  the  first  circle  of  observers  be 
small,  yet  each  of  them  becomes  the  centre  of  a  new 
circle,  and  our  influence  becomes  thus  difi'used  far 
beyond  our  control  and  even  our  knowledge.  What- 
ever station  we  occupy,  whether  we  live  in  the  public 

(143) 


144  SOCIAL   WORK. 

eye  or  in  the  deepest  privacy,  whether  we  are  am- 
bitious to  be  something  or  ambitious  to  be  nothing,  it 
is  a  necessity  of  our  social  existence  that  we  cannot 
live  to  ourselves.  There  is  no  wall  of  exclusiveness 
so  thick  or  so  high,  but  that  the  influence  of  our  cha- 
racter and  conduct,  the  influence,  in  short,  of  what  we 
are  and  what  we  do,  will  penetrate  through  it  or  climb 
over  it. 

It  is  a  solemn  fact  that  we  are  under  the  operation 
of  this  law  of  social  life,  and  that  its  operation  is  in- 
voluntary and  constant.  Life  itself  is  a  solemn  thing. 
We  may  so  use  it,  that  it  would  be  better  for  us  we 
had  never  possessed  it.  Or  we  may  so  use  it,  that  it 
shall  be  "  a  thing  of  beauty  and  of  joy  for  ever."  * 

Such  life,  with  its  voluntary  and  involuntary  contri- 
bution to  the  common  weal  or  to  the  common  woe,  is 
doubly  solemn.  There  may  be  some  whom  we  have 
already  unconsciously  benefitted,  and  who  have  been 
made  more  strong,  more  holy,  more  happy,  by  some 
casual  word  we  have  dropped,  or  some  casual  deed  we 
have  done,  of  which  there  is  no  record  in  our  own 
memory.  There  may  be  others  whom  some  casual 
word  or  deed  of  ours  has  accelerated  in  the  downward 
path  of  unbelief  and  ungodliness, — some  to  whose  ruin, 
already  consummated,  words  or  deeds  of  ours  gave  a 
fatal  impulse,  but  whom  neither  labour  nor  prayer  of 
ours,  if  persevered  in  for  ages,  will  now  raise  out  of 
their  slough  of  eternal  despond. 

The  apostolic  words,  ''  None  of  us  liveth  to  him- 
self,"f  are  not,  however,  the  mere  declaration  of  a 
social  fact;  they  are  a  declaration  of  Christian  law. 

*  We  slightly  change  the  poet's  words : — 

"  A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  for  ever." 

t  Romans  xiv.  7. 


NO    MAN    LIVETH    TO    HIMSELF.  145 

Our  involuntary  influence  may  be  either  evil  or  good : 
it  may  be  the  influence  of  selfishness  producing  selfish- 
ness. But  the  Christian  law  is,  "  Look  not  every  man 
on  his  own  things,  but  every  man  also  on  the  things 
of  others. '^  *  "  Ye  are  not  your  own.  For  ye  are 
bought  with  a  price  :  therefore  glorify  God  in  your 
body,  and  in  your  spirit,  which  are  God's. '^  f  The 
terms  selfish  Christian,  malignant  Christian,  covetous 
Christian,  are  as  incongruous  and  self-contradictory, 
as  the  terms  lying  Christian,  dishonest  Christian,  sen- 
sual Christian.  And  the  Christian  is  bound  to  avoid 
covetousness,  and  malignity,  and  selfishness,  as  he 
would  avoid  falsehood,  and  fraud,  and  sensuality.  The 
law,  "  Let  no  man  seek  his  own,  but  every  man 
another's  wealth,"  is  of  equal  obligation  with  the  law, 
''Thou  shalt  not  steal." 

The  Christian  love,  which  forms  the  soul  of  the  law, 
"  no  one  liveth  to  himself,"  may  very  appropriately 
"  begin"  its  social  work  "  at  home."  Let  Christians 
give  it  full  sway  in  their  families.  If  "  there  is  no 
place  like  home,"  let  love  destroy  those  selfish,  crooked 
tempers  which  mar  its  peace, — those  tempers  which 
break  up  families,  even  while  outwardly  one,  into 
fragments  that  are  brought  indeed  very  near  to  each 
other,  but  are  not  "  like  kindred  drops  which  mingle 
into  one."  Let  all  seek  within  their  home  circle  their 
first  and  best  sphere  of  well-doing.  It  will  amply 
repay  their  toil. 

But  Christian  love,  beginning  at  home,  will  not  be 
content  to  be  confined  there.  It  is  too  expansive  for 
that.  It  will  overlap  the  narrow  boundary;  or,  if  it 
be  forcibly  restrained  within  it,  it  will  resent  the 
wrong  by  dying  a  natural  death  in  its  prison.     That  it 

*  Philippians  ii  4.  f  1  Corinthians  tI.  19,  20. 

13 


146  SOCIAL    WORK. 

may  live  and  thrive  it  must  breathe  the  fresh  air  of 
the  world,  and  brace  itself  with  exercise  in  deeds  of 
mercy. 

What  shall  I  do  ?  is  probably  the  question  which 
will  be  asked  by  many — a  question  which  has  been 
answered  sententiously  thus  :  "  Do  the  duty  which 
lies  nearest  thee,  which  thou  knowest  to  be  a  duty  : 
thy  second  duty  will  already  have  become  clearer." 
And  this  is  only  a  paraphrase  of  the  inspired  saying, 
"  Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it,"  and  '•'  do 
it  with  thy  might."  Christian  love  will  find  objects 
on  which  to  expend  the  energy  of  its  well-doing,  at 
the  very  door,  lying  in  sin  and  wretchedness,  in  more 
desperate  case  than  the  man  who  fell  among  thieves  in 
the  solitary  and  robber-haunted  defile  which  lay  be- 
tween Jerusalem  and  Jericho.  It  will  find  them  in 
the  furthest  regions  of  the  earth,  all  "  neighbours," 
according  to  our  Lord's  teaching,  everywhere  needing 
and  awaiting  the  application  of  the  same  Christian 
balm.  Let  it  lay  its  hands  of  mercy  on  some  of  these, 
and  bind  up  their  wounds,  and  pour  in  the  oil  and 
wine  of  gospel  truth  and  love. 

Christian  women  find  it  often  more  difiicult  than 
their  brothers  do  to  discover  a  fitting  sphere  of  be- 
nevolent activity.  But  the  Bible  discloses  to  us  a 
singular  variety  of  work  performed  by  women  in  the 
service  of  their  God.  It  was  the  work  of  Miriam  to 
sound  the  loud  timbrel  when  Pharaoh  and  his  host 
sank  like  lead  in  the  mighty  waters.  It  was  the  work 
of  certain  ^'  wise-hearted  women"  in  the  camp  of 
Israel  in  the  wilderness,  "  to  spin  with  their  hands 
and  bring  that  which   they  had  spun,  both   of  blue, 


THE    WOMEN    OF    THE    BIBLE.  147 

and  of  purple,  and  of  scarlet,  and  of  fine  linen,''  for 
furniture  for  the  tabernacle  of  the  Lord.  It  was  the 
work  of  Deborah  to  be  more  than  a  "  mother  in 
Israel/'  to  be  a  prophetess,  a  captain,  and  a  deliverer. 
It  was  the  work  of  Hannah  to  train  her  own  child 
Samuel  for  the  service  of  God.  It  was  the  work  of 
certain  honoured  women  in  the  days  of  our  Lord  to 
minister  to  him  of  their  substance.  It  was  the  work 
of  Mary  of  Bethany  to  take  her  box  of  precious 
ointment  and  pour  it  on  the  head  of  her  Lord  in  token 
of  veneration  and  love — an  unconscious  preparation, 
at  the  same  time,  for  his  approaching  burial.  It  was 
the  work  of  the  poor  widow,  whom  the  eye  of  Jesus 
singled  out  from  the  multitude  of  worshippers  in  the 
temple,  to  give  two  mites  to  the  sacred  treasury.  It 
was  the  work  of  Dorcas  to  make  coats  and  garments 
for  the  poor  widows  that  were  at  Joppa.  It  was  the 
work  of  Priscilla,  with  her  husband  Aquila,  to  take 
that  young,  and  learned,  and  eloquent  Alexandrian, 
Apollos,  and  teach  him  the  way  of  the  Lord  more 
perfectly,  and  to  be  at  many  times,  and  in  many  ways, 
the  helper  of  Paul  himself  and  of  other  servants  of 
God.  In  the  last  chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Romans,  we  find  the  apostle  sending  his  Christian 
salutations  to  not  a  few  holy  women  who  ''  laboured  in 
the  Lord."  Of  Urbane,  and  Tryphena,  and  Tryphosa, 
and  Julia,  and  Persis,  and  other  Roman  women  thus 
honoured  by  Paul,  or  rather  by  the  Spirit  that  in- 
spired Paul,  we  know  nothing  beyond  the  fact  of  their 
being  Christian  ''  labourers."  Whether  they  belonged 
to  the  plebeian  or  patrician  order,  whether  they  were 
rich  or  poor,  whether  they  were  young  or  old,  we 
know  not.  What  their  occupations  and  trials  in  life, 
whether  they  floated  along  peacefully  amid  the  smiles 


148  SOCIAL   WORK. 

and  affections  of  parents,  and  brothers,  and  sisters,  or 
had  to  struggle  against  the  winds  and  tides  of  hostile 
relatives  and  of  adverse  circumstances,  we  know  not. 
!But  more  precious  than  the  names  of  their  parents, 
or  the  number  of  their  years,  or  their  earthly  rank,  is 
the  statement  that  they  ''  laboured  in  the  Lord ;"  a 
statement  which  makes  them  forerunners  of  all,  of 
every  age  and  rank,  who,  in  any  sphere,  or  by  any 
means,  "  labour"  to  make  known  to  others  the  blessed 
name  of  Christ. 

The  apostolic  church  in  Rome  knew  nothing  of 
convents  and  conventual  "sisterhoods;"  but  the  be- 
loved Persis  and  Urbane,  and  Tryphena  and  Tryphosa, 
were  "  sisters  of  charity"  in  the  highest  sense.  And 
the  Rome  of  their  day  furnished  scope,  ample  and 
varied,  for  all  their  gifts  and  exertions.  It  contained 
within  a  circuit  of  twelve  miles  more  than  two  millions 
of  inhabitants.  Among  these  there  were  of  course  all 
the  contrasts  which  are  seen  in  a  modern  city,  all  the 
painful  lines  of  separation  between  luxury  and  squalor, 
wealth  and  want,  and  these  on  an  exaggerated  scale. 
The  number  of  the  slaves  was  perhaps  about  a  million. 
A  vast  proportion  of  the  citizens  of  the  plebeian  order 
lived  on  public  or  private  charity.  "  Yet  were  these 
pauper  citizens  proud  of  their  citizenship,  though 
many  of  them  had  no  better  sleeping  places  for  the 
night  than  the  public  porticos  or  the  vestibules  of 
temples.  They  cared  for  nothing  beyond  bread  for 
the  day,  the  games  of  the  circus,  and  the  savage  de- 
light of  gladiatorial  shows.  Manufactures  and  trade 
they  regarded  as  the  business  of  the  slave  and  the 
foreigner.  Every  kind  of  nationality  and  religion 
found  its  representative  in  Rome,  which  was  like  Lon- 
don, with  all  its  miseries,  vices,  and  follies  exaggerated, 


A    DAY    IN    THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST.  149 

and  without  its  Christianity."  Such  a  population  sup- 
plied, indeed,  a  field  for  '^much  labour  in  the  Lord/* 
but  one  which  was  far  more  difficult  to  occupy  than 
that  which  invites  the  toil  and  prayers  of  Christian 
women  in  modern  England. 

But  let  us  turn  to  our  Great  Exemplar.  "  My  Fa- 
ther worketh  hitherto,  and  I  work,"  he  said — words 
which  naturally  and  rightly  produced  the  impression 
that  he  claimed  equality  with  God.  In  the  language 
of  a  faithful  and  diligent  servant,  he  said,  on  another 
occasion,  "  I  must  work  the  works  of  Him  that  sent 
me,  while  it  is  day  :  the  night  cometh,  when  no  man 
can  work." 

"  What  would  we  not  give,"  says  an  American  au- 
thor, "  for  a  few  pages  of  the  private  diary  of  Julius 
Caesar,  or  Cicero,  or  Brutus,  or  Augustus  ;  or  for  the 
minute  reminiscences  of  any  one  who  had  spent  a  few 
days  in  the  company  of  either  of  these  distinguished 
men  ?  What  a  flood  of  light  would  the  discovery  of 
such  a  manuscript  throw  upon  Roman  life,  but  espe- 
cially upon  the  private  opinions,  the  motives,  the  aspi- 
rations, the  moral  estimates  of  the  men  whose  names 
have  become  household  words  throughout  the  world !" 
There  has  been  nothing  left  for  us  to  desire,  however, 
in  reference  to  the  life  of  a  greater  than  the  Csesars. 
The  history  of  our  Great  Exemplar  has  been  written 
by  men  who  travelled  with  him,  on  foot,  throughout 
the  length  and  breadth  of  Palestine;  who  partook 
with  him  of  his  frugal  meals,  and  bore  with  him  the 
trial  of  hunger,  weariness,  and  want  of  shelter;  who 
followed  him  through  the  lonely  wilderness  and  the 
crowded  street ;  who  saw  his  miracles  in  every  variety 
of  form,  and  listened  to  his  discourses  in  public  and 
13* 


150  SOCIAL   WORK. 

his  explanations  in  private.  Their  narrative,  though 
brief,  and  without  adornment  or  words  of  eulogy,  en- 
ables us  to  realize  his  character  and  spirit,  and  manner 
of  life,  more  vividly  and  with  more  of  personal  sym- 
pathy, than  we  can  those  of  any  other  distinguished 
person  that  has  ever  lived.  The  history  of  one  day  in 
his  life,  as  told  in  few  and  artless  terms  by  those  who 
themselves  shared  in  its  pursuits,*  will  suffice,  if  care- 
fully studied,  to  show  us  how  Jesus  Christ  "  went 
about  doing  good."  Private  kindness,  the  relief  of 
distress,  public  teaching,  and  ministration  to  the  wants 
of  the  famishing,  filled  up  the  entire  day.  Let  his 
disciples  learn  to  follow  his  example.  Let  them,  like 
him,  forget  themselves,  their  own  wants,  and  their 
own  weariness,  that  they  may,  as  he  did,  scatter  bless- 
ings on  every  side,  as  they  move  onward  in  the  path 
of  their  daily  life. 

Those  who  are  not  conformed  to  Christ  in  well- 
doing are  none  of  his ;  for  "  he  gave  himself  for  men, 
to  purify  unto  himself  a  peculiar  people,  zealots  for 
good  works."  "  Hereby  perceive  we  the  love  of  God, 
because  he  laid  down  his  life  for  us  :  and  we  ought  to 
lay  down  our  life  for  the  brethren.  But  whoso  hath 
this  world's  good,  and  seeth  his  brother  have  need,  and 
shutteth  up  his  bowels  of  compassion  from  him,  how 
dwelleth  the  love  of  Grod  in  him  ?  My  little  children, 
let  us  not  love  in  word,  neither  in  tongue,  but  in  deed 
and  in  truth."  '^  Freely  have  ye  received,  freely  give." 
^'  Love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law." 

Paul  and  his  fellow-apostles,  Luther  and  his  fel- 
low-reformers, Whitefield  and  his  fellow-preachers, 
Howard    and    his    fellow-philanthropists,   Eaikes    and 

*  Matthew  xiv.  13—21 :  Mark  vi.  30—44;  Luke.  ix.  10—17 ;  John  vi.  1—14. 


HANNAH    MORE.  151 

his  fellow-sabbath-school  teachers,  Clarkson  and  his 
fellow-labourers,  in  the  abolition  of  the  slave-trade, 
Carey  and  his  fellow-missionaries,  are  all  represen- 
tatives and  embodiments  of  the  one  principle  of  Chris- 
tian well-doing.  And  to  write  the  history  of  those 
works  of  faith  and  labours  of  love  of  which  the  ad- 
vent of  Christ  into  our  world  has  been  the  spring, 
and  the  example  of  Christ  the  pattern,  would  be  to 
write  the  history  of  the  pure  and  living  church  of 
every  age.  A  few  instances,  however,  of  holy  toil  for 
the  spiritual  good  of  mankind  may  be  given  to  show 
how,  in  circumstances  varied,  and  for  the  greater  part 
unusual,  Christian  hands  have  found  something  to  do, 
and  Christian  hearts  prompted  them  to  do  it  ''  with 
their  might." 

Hannah  More  occupies  a  high  place  in  the  litera- 
ture of  her  country,  but  a  still  higher 
in  the  history  of  Christian  well-doino;.  born  1745 ;    dild 

•^  O      Sept.  7,  1833. 

At  the  time  when  the  fame  of  her 
writings  was  echoing  throughout  the  land,  the  grace 
of  God  brought  her  heart  into  subjection  to  a  better 
Master  than  self  or  the  world ;  and  thenceforward, 
constrained  by  the  love  of  Christ,  she  lived  to  do  good. 
She  employed  her  pen,  her  property,  her  tongue,  all  in 
the  blessed  service  of  her  Lord.  By  schools  for  the 
poor,  and  by  providing  a  Christian  literature  both  for 
the  humbler  and  the  higher  classes,  she  accomplished 
a  great  work  in  her  day. 

Ten  miles  from  her  residence  at  Cowslip  Green,  lay 
the  romantic  parish  of  Cheddar.  Miss  More  and  her 
sister,  in  exploring  its  beauties,  were  grieved  to  find 
that  its  spiritual  aspect  was  dreary  to  the  last  degree. 
They  found  but  one  Bible  in  all  the  parish,  and  that 


152  SOCIAL  WORK. 

was  used  to  prop  a  flower-pot.  The  people  were 
ignorant,  barbarous,  and  brutal.  But  what  could  a 
family  of  feeble  women,  residing  at  a  distance  of  ten 
miles  from  the  spot,  do  in  such  a  case  ?  Nothing  but 
sigh  over  it,  most  such  women  would  think.  But  not 
so  reasoned  the  Misses  More.  Something  to  pierce 
the  gloom  of  this  terrible  darkness,  something  to  raise 
this  besotted  people,  they  would  attempt.  A  school 
was  determined  on.  This  school  was  to  be  a  centre, 
from  which  in  various  ways  Christian  instruction  and 
influence,  as  well  as  secular  knowledge,  were  to  be 
spread  abroad.  But  to  establish  such  an  institution 
was  no  easy  matter.  The  people  did  not  want  it.  A 
great  many  refused  to  send  their  children,  unless  they 
would  pay  for  them,  and  not  a  few  refused  because 
they  were  not  sure  of  her  intentions,  being  appre- 
hensive that,  at  the  end  of  seven  years,  if  they  attended 
so  long,  she  would  acquire  a  power  over  them,  and 
send  them  beyond  sea.  "  I  was  told,"  she  writes,  "we 
should  meet  with  great  opposition  if  I  did  not  try  to 
propitiate  the  chief  despot  of  the  village,  who  is  very 
rich  and  very  brutal ;  so  I  ventured  into  the  den  of 
this  monster,  in  a  country  as  savage  as  himself,  near 
Bridgewater.  He  begged  I  would  not  think  of  bring- 
ing any  religion  into  the  country;  it  was  the  worst 
thing  in  the  world  for  the  poor,  for  it  made  them  lazy 
and  useless.  In  vain  did  I  represent  to  him  that  they 
would  be  more  industrious  as  they  were  better  prin- 
cipled; and  that,  for  my  own  part,  I  had  no  selfish 
views  in  what  I  was  doing.  He  gave  me  to  under- 
stand that  he  knew  the  world  too  well  to  believe  either 
the  one  or  the  other."  Miss  More,  however,  boldly 
engaged  a  house,  and  had  it  set  in  order  immediately. 
"For,"  she  says,  writing   to  Mr.  Wilberforce,  "the 


LABOURS   or   THE    MISSES   MORE.  153 

night  Cometh  ;  and  it  is  a  comfort  to  think,  that  though 
I  may  be  dust  and  ashes  in  a  few  Tveeks,  yet  by  that 
time  this  business  will  be  in  actual  motion/'  In  con- 
nection with  the  Sabbath-school,  which  formed  an 
important  part  of  the  scheme,  an  evening  service  for 
adults  was  established,  when  a  hymn  was  sung  and  a 
simple  prayer  and  sermon  read  by  one  of  the  sisters. 
The  work  prospered.  A  mighty  change  was  effected 
at  Cheddar.  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  preparing  the 
soil,  the  good  seed  took  root  and  bore  fruit  many-fold. 
Numbers  of  both  the  old  and  young  were  led  to  the 
Saviour.  The  desert  became  a  fruitful  field.  The 
savages  of  Cheddar  were  not  only  civilized,  but  many 
of  them  were  truly  christianized.  The  all-potent 
influence  of  the  doctrine  of  the  cross  transformed 
their  rude  homes  into  the  happy  and  intelligent  abodes 
of  peace  and  love.  Prayer  and  praise  arose  from  many 
a  cottage  hearth,  whence  before  had  been  daily  heard 
the  sounds  of  daring  profanity,  of  wild  revelry,  and  of 
hateful  malice.  The  Misses  More  found  two  mining: 
villages  at  the  top  of  Mendip  in  a  state  of  the  most 
ft'ightful  brutality.  No  constable  would  venture 
thither  to  perform  his  functions,  and  they  were 
warned  that  any  attempt  to  labour  there  would  be 
made  at  the  risk  of  their  lives.  But  venture  they 
would  and  did,  and  there  they  had  a  further  proof  that 
the  weapon  they  carried — the  gospel — was  all  powerful 
to  destroy  every  stronghold  of  Satan.  These  are  but 
specimens  of  the  work  to  which  these  Christian  sisters 
devoted  themselves. 

As  years  passed  on,  school  after  school  was  estab- 
lished, until  in  1796  the  various  schools  and  societies 
established  by  them  contained  about  sixteen  or  seven- 
teen hundred  persons.     They  were  scattered  over  ten 


154  SOCIAL   WORK. 

parishes,  and  lay  at  considerable  distances ;  so  that 
the  Misses  More  had  a  diameter  of  above  twenty  miles 
to  travel,  in  order  to  get  at  them.  ''In  some  of 
the  most  profligate  places,'^  wrote  Miss  More  to  Mr. 
Newton,  "  we  have  had  the  most  success;"  '*  and  where 
we  chiefly  fail,  it  is  with  your  pretty  good  kind  of  people , 
who  do  not  see  how  they  can  be  better.  I  think  it 
has  pleased  God  to  give  us  the  most  rapid  progress  in 
the  parish  we  last  took  up,  not  a  year  ago.  This 
place  has  helped  to  people  the  county  jail  and  Botany 
Bay  beyond  any  I  know  of.  They  seemed  to  have 
reached  a  crisis  of  iniquity.'' 

Thus  the  sisters  found  themselves  charged  with  a 
delightful  but  most  laborious  and  responsible  under- 
taking. The  entire  cost  was,  of  course,  far  beyond 
their  own  means;  but  whatever  was  wanting  was 
readily  supplied  to  them  by  generous  Christian 
friends.  But  of  the  care  and  labour  of  super- 
intendence they  could  not  be  relieved ;  and  the  per- 
secutions to  which  they  were  exposed  were  hard  to 
bear.  In  periodicals  and  pamphlets  they  were  accused, 
for  years,  of  being  the  abettors  of  fanaticism,  and 
sedition,  and  immorality.  Under  the  pressure  of 
this  trial.  Miss  More  wrote  to  a  friend  : — "  Battered, 
hacked,  scalped,  tomahawked  as  I  have  been  for  three 
years,  and  continue  to  be,  brought  out  every  month 
as  an  object  of  scorn  and  abhorrence,  I  seem  to  have 
nothing  to  do  in  the  world."  But  she  could  speak 
also  of  the  lessons  learned  in  the  furnace  : — "  I  have 
learned  the  true  value  of  human  opinion  ;  and  I  have 
learned  much  of  the  corruption,  not  of  the  world  only, 
but  of  my  own  heart.  I  have  gotten  stronger  faith  in 
the  truth  of  Scripture.  I  feel  a  general  spirit  of  sub- 
mission;  and  there  are  at  times,  but  not  often,  when  I 


SIR    EDWARD   PARRY.  155 

can  even  rejoice  that  I  have  been  counted  worthy  to 
suffer  in  this  cause." 

Her  schools  survived  the  storm,  and  were  main- 
tained by  her  during  the  remainder  of  her  life;  and 
she  knew  what  it  was  to  experience  the  joy  of  the 
reaper,  as  well  as  the  anxiety  of  the  sower. 

The  third  and  last  voyage  of  Sir  Edward  Parry,  in 
search  of  a   north-west    passage  from 

1       T".       •  r»       •  11  Edward     Parry ; 

the  Atlantic  to  the  Facmc,  is  memorable  born  pee.  i9. 1790 ; 

'  ^      died  Jxily  8. 1850. 

as  the  period  (1824-5)  in  which  this 
illustrious  seaman  learned  to  look  to  Christ  as  his 
Saviour.  In  all  his  dark  winterings  in  the  north,  he 
had  made  the  health  and  comfort  of  his  men  his  special 
care ;  but  now  he  was  additionally  anxious  to  promote 
their  moral  and  spiritual  improvement.  And  when,  a 
few  years  later,  he  was  called  to  occupy  an  important 
post  on  the  outskirts  of  an  Australian  forest,  amongst 
the  convicts  and  aborigines  of  New  South  Wales,  he 
found  wider  scope  for  the  principle  of  well-doing 
which  was  implanted  in  his  heart.  The  people  who 
were  then  placed  under  his  charge  consisted  of  three 
classes  :  first,  the  oflScers  and  servants  of  the  Australian 
Agricultural  Company  ;  secondly,  the  convicts  work- 
ing also  in  the  employ  of  the  company,  or  acting  as 
domestic  servants  in  the  officers'  families ;  and  lastly, 
the  natives,  whose  home  was  in  the  "  bush,"  and  whose 
encampments  were  often  found  within  a  few  yards  of 
the  settlement.  The  almost  total  want  of  proper 
discipline,  which  had  previously  existed  in  the 
colony,  rendered  it  a  matter  of  no  small  difficulty  to 
introduce  a  new  system  of  order  and  regularity.  This, 
however.  Parry  was  determined  to  effect,  and  though 
there    was   at   the    outset    much    to   dishearten,   his 


156  SOCIAL   WORK. 

judgment  and  firmness  by  degrees  triumphed  over  all 
obstacles,  while  the  genial  kindness  of  his  disposition, 
and  iiis  evident  desire  for  the  general  welfare,  gained 
the  respect  and  affection  of  all.  While  maintaining 
his  authority  as  governor,  and  directing  matters  of 
business  with  the  most  scrupulous  exactness,  he 
regarded  nothing  as  too  trivial  to  occupy  his  attention 
which  could  in  any  way  tend  to  promote  innocent 
enjoyment,  but  sought,  on  the  contrary,  to  draw 
closer  in  little  things  the  bond  which  united  him  to 
his  people. 

From  the  hour  of  his  arrival,  Sir  Edward  Parry's 
heart  was  especially  afi"ected  by  the  moral  condition  of 
his  people.  The  free  population  were,  religiously, 
almost  on  a  level  with  the  ignorant  savages  by  whom 
they  were  surrounded.  Immorality  and  drunkenness 
prevailed  to  a  fearful  extent :  schools  were  unknown  : 
the  word  of  God  had  not  been  preached  for  four 
years,  and  all  seemed  to  be  living  without  God  in  the 
•world.  The  first  step  towards  the  introduction  of  a 
better  state  of  things  was  the  establishment  of  a 
regular  service  on  the  Lord's  day.  There  was  no 
church  nearer  than  Sydney,  nor  was  there  any  chaplain 
in  the  settlement.  Under  these  circumstances,  Sir 
Edward  fitted  up  a  carpenter's  shop  in  the  village  as  a 
place  of  worship,  and  conducted  the  service  himself. 
Had  he  been  by  profession  a  missionary,  he  could  not 
have  given  himself  to  his  spiritual  work  with  more 
zeal  or  intelligence.  At  first,  scarcely  a  score  of  men 
were  found  willing  to  attend  the  service,  and  none  of 
the  women.  But  by  degrees  the  attendance  became 
large  and  regular.  And  to  this  congregation  of 
"bond  and  free"  Sir  Edward  preached  two  sermons 
every  Lord's  day,  one  of  them  being  original.     He 


parry's  labours  in  AUSTRALIA,      157 

seemed  at  home,  we  are  told,  the  moment  he  entered 
the  reading-desk,  and  his  manner  was  characterized  by 
deep  reverence  and  feeling. 

In  private  as  well  as  in  public  did  Sir  Edward  and 
Lady  Parry  seek  the  spiritual  good  of  the  colony,  and 
their  labours  were  not  in  vain.  The  temporal  affairs 
of  the  settlement  were  restored  to  order  and  prosperity, 
its  moral  condition  was  vastly  improved,  nor  were 
there  wanting  specific  instances  in  which  the  word  of 
God  proved  mighty  to  the  conversion  of  sinners.  *^It 
was  at  the  close  of  a  beautiful  sabbath-day,"  says  the 
author  of  "  The  Prisoners  of  Australia,"  that  I 
once  sallied  forth  for  an  evening  stroll.  ...  I  almost 
unconsciously  wandered  to  a  convict's  hut,  which 
stood  on  the  borders  of  the  coast.  Attracted  by  the 
sound  of  voices,  as  if  of  children  reading,  I  paused  to 
listen;  and  although  still  too  far  from  the  dwelling  to 
hear  the  subject  of  such  discourse,  I  saw  through  the 
open  doorway  what  was  passing  within.  The  father 
of  the  family,  a  convict,  sat  near  the  entrance,  with  a 
young  child  on  his  knee  ;  while  three  older  ones  were 
grouped  around  him,  reading  from  the  Scriptures, 
which,  from  time  to  time,  he  explained  to  them.  .  .  . 
Unwilling  to  intrude  upon  a  family  thus  engaged,  I 
returned  home  unperceived  by  those  who  had  thus 
attracted  and  interested  me;  but  on  the  following  day, 
I  heard  from  the  lips  of  his  wife  the  circumstances  of 
this  convict's  transportation,  etc.  .  .  .  Providentially, 
he  had  been  assigned  to  the  service  of  the  Agricultural 
Company,  and,  under  the  Christian  teaching  of  Sir 
Edward  Parry,  both  he  and  his  wife  had,  humanly 
speaking,  been  led  to  see  the  folly  of  worldly  wicked- 
ness, and  the  deep  importance  of  those  better  things 

which  now  formed  their  highest  privilege  and  consola- 
13 


158  SOCIAL   WORK. 

tion.  .  .  .  These  blessings  were  among  the  many  fruits 
of  the  missionary  exertions  of  Sir  Edward  Parry  and 
his  now  sainted  lady,  who  both  lived  in  the  grateful 
affections  of  many  a  chastened  heart,  long  after  they 
had  ceased  to  take  a  personal  share  in  the  interests 
of  that  far  distant  colony." 

When,  in  1846,  Sir  Edward  Parry  was  appointed 
captain  superintendent  of  the  Eoyal  Clarence  Yard, 
and  of  the  naval  hospital  at  Haslar,  he  pursued  the 
same  path  of  usefulness,  and  with  similar  results.  Not 
a  few  seamen  owed  to  him,  under  God,  their  very  souls. 

As  it  was  with  Sir  Edward  Parry,  the  sailor,  so  was 
it  with  Sir  Henry  Havelock,  the  soldier.  From  the 
time  of  his  landing  in  India,  he  sought  the  moral  and 
spiritual  welfare  of  his  men.  And  how  much  better 
was  it  thus  to  diffuse  his  light  among  others,  than  to 
withdraw  it  to  shine  the  more  brightly  in  monastic 
solitude,  where  no  wanderer's  feet  should  be  guided 
by  it  into  the  way  of  peace  ! 

The  Burmese  war  of  the  following  year  supplies  an 
illustration,  both  of  the  manner  of  his  devotion  to  the 
good  of  his  men,  and  of  the  effects  which  it  produced. 
In  the  city  of  Rangoon,  which  was  taken  by  the 
English,  there  was  a  famous  heathen  temple  devoted 
to  the  service  of  Boodh.  Of  a  chamber  in  this  temple 
Havelock  obtained  possession.  All  around  were 
images  of  Boodh,  in  the  usual  position,  sitting  with 
the  legs  gathered  up,  and  crossed,  and  the  hands  rest- 
ing on  the  lap,  in  symbol  and  expression  of  repose. 
Abominable  idolatries  had  often  been  witnessed  there, 
but  it  needed  no  ceremonial  cleansings  to  make  it  fit 
for  Christian  psalmody  and  prayer.  An  officer  relates 
that,  as  he  was  wandering  round  about  the  pagotJa  on 


HAVELOCK   IN   AN   IDOL's   TEiMPLE.     .         159 

one  occasion,  he  heard  the  sound,  strange  enough,  as 
he  thought,  of  siiigino'.  The  ofl&cer  determined  to 
follow  the  sound  to  its  source.  At  last  he  reached 
the  chamber,  and  what  should  meet  his  eye  but 
Havelock,  with  his  Bible  and  hymn-book  before  him, 
and  more  than  a  hundred  men  seated  around  him, 
giving  earnest  heed  to  his  words ! 

"  England,  thy  soldier  brave  in  fight, 
With  his  men  of  warrior  mould, 
Who  had  won  the  rampart's  foe-lined  height, 
And  crushed  the  proud  stronghold, 
"  Whose  victor  shouts  had  rent  the  air, 
Wide  borne  o'er  hill  and  plain, 
'Twas  they  who  devoutly  worshipped  there, 
In  the  idol's  empty  fane." 

In  every  idol's  lap  there  was  a  lamp  to  illumine  the 
dark  chamber.  ''  There  they  were,  those  dumb  but 
significant  lamp-bearers,  in  constant  use;  and  they 
were  there,  we  may  well  be  assured,  to  suggest  stirring 
thoughts  to  the  lieutenant  and  his  men.  How  well 
the  115th  Psalm  would  be  understood  there !  How 
impressively  some  parts  of  the  first  chapter  of  Romans 
would  be  explained !  How  earnestly  the  prayer 
would  be  offered  that  the  Burmese  might  be  led, 
through  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  to  cast  these 
and  all  other  idols  to  the  moles  and  to  the  bats  !  How 
gratefully  would  thanksgiving  be  offered  that  he,  who 
is  our  God,  is  the  God  of  salvation,  the  God  and 
Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  I" 

The  fruits  of  such  endeavours  as  these  to  bring  his 
men  under  the  influence  of  Christian  principle  were 
palpable  to  all.  Whilst  they  were  in  Burmah,  the 
army  was  one  day  suddenly  apprised  of  the  near 
approach  of  the  enemy.  The  general.  Sir  Archibald 
Campbell,  sent  in  great  haste  to  order  the  men  of  a 
particular  corps  to  occupy  at  once  a  prescribed  post. 


100  SOCIAL   WORK. 

Imminent  as  was  the  danger,  the  order  was  to  no  pur- 
pose;  for  the  men  of  that  corps  were  so  many  of  them 
intoxicated,  that  they  were  unfit  for  duty.  The  position 
"Was  embarrassing,  and  would  presently  have  become 
serious.  The  general  knew  this  well,  and  he  knew 
too  how  probably  it  could  best,  at  least  in  part,  be 
met.  "  Then,''  said  he,  when  told  that  his  former 
order  was  unavailing, — "  then  call  out  Havelock's 
saints  ;  they  are  never  drunk,  and  Havelock  is  always 
ready."  The  bugle  sounded;  they  were  immediately 
under  arms;  and  the  general's  object  was  accomplished 
by  the  enemy  being  repulsed. 

Havelock's  efforts  to  do  good  to  his  men  were  not 
spasmodic  and  occasional ;  they  were  his  life-long 
labour  and  joy.  A  gentleman,  who  passed  through 
Cabul  when  the  English  army  was  there,  states  that 
he  attended  one  of  the  meetings  of  the  congregation 
of  pious  soldiers,  and  says  that  he  shall  never  forget 
the  thrilling  sensation  he  felt  in  that  romantic  position, 
while  the  men  stood  up  and  sang  with  heart  and  soul 
the  100th  Psalm,  as  Havelock  gave  out  the  words — 

"  Ye  nations  round  the  earth,  rejoice, 
Before  the  Lord,  your  Sovereign  King; 
Seive  him  with  cheerful  heart  and  voice, 
With  all  your  tongues  his  glories  slug." 

When  this  gentleman  heard,  soon  after,  of  the  brave 
defence  of  Jellalabad  by  these  troops  and  their  com- 
rades, his  mind  involuntarily  reverted  to  the  little 
band  of  Christian  soldiers  surrounding  Havelock  in 
the  room  at  Cabul,  and  he  thought  that  men  thus 
nerved  with  the  vigour  of  Christian  principle  and 
devotion  were  prepared  to  face  an  enemy  and  over- 
come any  difficulty.  On  the  completion  of  the  works, 
Havelock  suggested  to   General  Sale  the  propriety  of 


SARAH    MARTIN.  161 

assembling  the  whole  garrison  for  the  purpose  of  offer- 
ing up  thanks  to  Almighty  God,  "  who  had  in  his 
mercy  enabled  them  to  complete  the  fortifications  that 
were  necessary  for  their  protection.'^  The  suggestion 
was  approved,  and  the  necessary  command  given. 
"  There  stood  those  brave-hearted  and  hard-handed 
men,  awaiting  the  direction  that  might  come  next. 
'  Let  us  pray,'  said  a  well-known  voice.  It  was  Have- 
lock's,  '  Let  us  pray ;'  and  down  before  the  presence 
of  the  great  God  those  soldiers  reverently  bowed,  one 
and  all  of  them,  whilst  at  the  impulse  of  a  devout  and 
grateful  heart  he  poured  forth  supplication  and  praise 
in  the  name  of  the  great  High  Priest." 

In  the  town  of  Great  Yarmouth,  there  died,  in  1843, 
a  humble  sempstress,  of  whom  one  of 

,  f,   Ti        1-    1      T  Sarah     Martin; 

the  e;reat  ors-ans  oi  Lnolish  literature    t>orn  June,  1791 : 

o  ^  b  ^       died  August,  1843. 

wrote  in  these  strong  terms  : — ^'  It  is 
the  business  of  literature  to  make  such  a  life  stand  out 
from  the  masses  of  ordinary  existence  with  something 
of  the  distinctness  with  which  a  lofty  building  uprears 
itself  in  the  confusion  of  a  distant  view.  It  should 
be  made  to  attract  the  eyes,  to  excite  the  hearts  of  all 
persons  who  think  the  welfare  of  their  fellow-mortals 
an  object  of  interest  or  duty  ;  it  should  be  included  in 
collections  of  biography,  and  chronicled  in  the  high 
places  of  history ;  men  should  be  taught  to  estimate 
it  as  that  of  one  whose  philanthropy  has  entitled  her 
to  renown ;  and  children  to  associate  the  name  of 
Sarah  Martin  with  those  of  Howard,  Buxton,  Fry 
— the  most  benevolent  of  mankind." 

In  the  beginning  of  this  century,  English  jails  were, 
in   general,  academies   of  crime ;    and  through  their 
instrumentality,     the    law    itself   was    the    principal 
14* 


162  SOCIAL    WORK. 

teacher  of  the  '^  science  of  hiw-breaking."  Yarmouth 
is  said  to  have  been  one  of  the  last  places  in  the 
kingdom  to  become  convinced  of  this  fact.  The  doors 
were  simply  locked  upon  the  prisoners ;  their  time 
was  given  to  gaming,  swearing,  fighting,  playing,  and 
bad  language.  There  was  no  divine  worship  in  the 
jail  on  Sundays,  nor  any  respect  paid  to  that  holy  day. 
The  whole  place  was  filthy,  confined,  unhealthy ;  and 
in  the  course  of  a  few  years,  Sarah  Martin  provided 
for  all  the  most  important  objects  of  prison  discipline, 
moral  and  intellectual  tuition,  occupation  during  im- 
prisonment, and  employment  after  discharge.  Whilst 
great  and  good  men,  at  a  distance,  unknown  to  her, 
were  inquiring  and  disputing  as  to  the  way  and  the 
order  in  which  these  very  results  were  to  be  attained, 
here  was  a  poor  woman,  who  was  herself  actually  per- 
sonally accomplishing  them  all.  She  had  to  contend 
with  many  difficulties  that  are  now  unknown.  Prison 
discipline  was  then  in  its  infancy  :  everything  she  did 
was  conceived  in  the  best  spirit,  and  considering  the 
time  and  the  means  at  her  command,  could  scarcely 
have  been  improved. 

And  who  was  Sarah  Martin,  that  she  should  be  able 
to  do  all  this  ?  A  woman  of  no  rank,  of  no  wealth, 
of  no  genius,  of  no  learning, — a  poor  Norfolk  dress- 
maker, with  the  love  of  Christ  in  her  heart.  Faith  in 
Christ  made  her  a  philanthropist.  The  love  of  Christ 
constrained  her  both  to  piety  and  benevolence.  But, 
at  the  outset,  she  formed  no  great  schemes,  and  sought 
no  great  patronage;  she  simply  performed  "the  duty 
which  was  nearest  to  her.^'  At  every  step  of  her 
onward  progress,  her  principle  seems  to  have  been  to 
attend  to  "  what  her  hands  found  to  do,"  and  to  "  do 
what  she  could.''     The   Sunday-school  was   her  first 


YARMOUTH    PRISON.  163 

field  of  labour.  The  workhouse  attracted  her  atten- 
tion at  the  same  time;  and  in  1810,  being  only  in 
the  twentieth  year  of"  her  age,  her  desire  was  gratified 
by  obtaining  admission  to  see  a  young  woman  who  was 
ill. 

In  1819,  an  unnatural  mother  was  committed  to 
jail  for  cruelly  beating  her  own  child.  Sarah  Martin 
went  to  the  jail,  passed  into  the  dark  porch  which 
overhung  the  entrance,  and,  in  a  timid,  modest  man- 
ner, asked  permission  to  see  her.  It  was  refused; 
there  was  "  a  lion  in  the  way."  But  the  warm-hearted 
girl  was  too  well  assured  of  her  own  purposes  to  be 
daunted;  and,  upon  a  second  application  she  was 
admitted.  The  imprisoned  mother  ^'  was  surprised  at 
the  sight  of  a  stranger."  ''  When  I  told  the  woman," 
says  Miss  Martin,  "  the  motive  of  my  visit — her  guilt 
and  her  need  of  God's  mercy,  etc., — she  burst  into 
tears  and  thanked  me."  These  tears  and  thanks  gave 
the  young  philanthropist  courage.  ^'  I  read  to  her," 
she  adds,  "  tlie  twenty-third  chapter  of  Luke,"  which 
contains  the  story  of  the  malefactor,  who,  although 
suffering  justly  by  man's  judgment,  found  mercy  from 
the  Saviour. 

After  this  introduction  to  a  life  of  mercy  within 
prison  walls,  the  door  was  never  shut  against  her. 
*'  There  does  not  appear  to  have  been  any  instance 
of  a  prisoner  long  refusing  to  take  advantage  of  her 
instructions.  Men  entered  the  prison,  saucy,  shallow, 
self-conceited,  full  of  cavils  and  objections,  which 
Sarah  Martin  was  singularly  clever  in  meeting;  but 
in  a  few  days  the  most  stubborn,  and  those  who  had 
refused  the  most  peremptorily,  either  to  be  employed 
or  to  be  instructed,  would  beg  to  be  allowed  to  take 
their  part  in   the  general   cause.     Once  within   the 


164  SOCIAL   WORK. 

circle  of  her  influence,  the  effect  was  curious.  Men, 
old  in  years,  as  well  as  in  crime,  might  be  seen 
striving,  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  to  hold  a  pen, 
or  bending  hoary  heads  over  primers  and  spelling- 
books,  or  studying  to  commit  to  memory  some  precept 
taken  from  the  Holy  Scriptures.  Young  rascals,  as 
impudent  as  they  were  ignorant,  beginning  with  one 
verse,  went  on  to  long  passages ;  and  even  the  dullest 
were  enabled  by  perseverance  to  furnish  their  minds 
and  memories  with  from  two  to  five  verses  every  day." 
'^  She  was  no  titular  Sister  of  Charity,^'  to  use  the 
words  of  a  prison  inspector,  '*  but  was  silently  felt  and 
acknowledged  to  be  one,  by  the  many  outcast  and 
destitute  persons  who  received  encouragement  from 
her  lips,  and  relief  from  her  hands,  and  by  the  few 
who  were  witnesses  of  her  good  works." 

John  Theodore  Yanderkemp  was,  for  sixteen 

years,   a  dashing  officer   of   dragoons. 

born'^'^a^^^iuftte?!  He  was  a  profone  infidel,  and  the  slave 

dam,    1748;      died  .  „ 

1^  South  Africa,  ot  vicc  and  ungodliness.  On  marrying, 
his  character  improved  outwardly ;  but 
his  infidelity  was  only  confirmed  by  his  intercourse 
with  the  deists  of  Edinburgh,  while  studying  medicine 
in  that  city.  After  a  few  years  of  medical  practice  in 
Holland,  he  retired  from  active  occupation,  intending 
to  devote  the  residue  of  his  days  to  literary  pursuits. 
But  the  God,  whom  he  knew  not,  had  other  work  for 
him  to  do.  After  much  restless  thinking  on  the  subject 
of  religion,  he  concluded  that  it  was  beyond  the  reach 
of  his  reason  to  discover  the  true  road  to  virtue  and 
happiness.  This,  he  says,  he  confessed  to  God,  and 
owned  that  he  was  like  a  blind  man  who  had  lost  his 


DR.   VANDERKEMP.  165 

way,  and  who  waited  in  the  hope  that  some  benevolent 
person  would  pass  by  and  show  him  the  right  path. 

His  hope  was  realized,  not,  however,  in  the  first 
place,  by  the  still  small  voice,  but  by  the  fire  and 
tempest.  By  a  sudden  storm  he  was  bereft  of  his  wife 
and  only  child,  while  his  own  life  was  rescued  as  by 
a  miracle.  The  Sabbath  after,  he  was  found  in  the 
sanctuary,  a  broken-hearted  mourner.  The  world  was 
no  longer  to  him  what  it  had  been  :  his  home  was  dark 
and  desolate  3  and  there  was  something  in  the  charac- 
ter of  Jesus  Christ  that  drew  him  to  the  gospel  for 
comfort.  The  sophistries  by  which  his  intellect  had 
been  warped  were  gradually  destroyed,  and  within  a 
few  short  months  the  gospel  was  understood^  believed, 
and  loved. 

Dr.  Vanderkemp,  now  a  Christian,  could  no  longer 
live  to  himself.  He  became  a  missionary  to  the 
heathen  at  fifty  years  of  age,  shrinking  from  no  danger 
and  from  no  toil.  During  his  sojourn  in  London,  on 
his  way  to  Africa,  he  passed  a  brick-field ;  and  it  struck 
him  that  a  great  boon  might  be  conferred  on  the 
Hottentots  by  teaching  them  to  build  better  houses ; 
in  order  to  which  it  would  first  be  needful  to  teach  them 
the  art  of  brick-making.  Accordingly  he  sought  leave 
to  join  the  labourers,  and  for  some  weeks  the  vener- 
able apprentice  sweltered  among  the  brick-kilns, 
lightening  his  labour  by  the  thought  of  Africa.  And 
when  he  arrived  among  the  people  of  his  choice,  he 
consecrated  himself  to  their  service  with  the  ardour  of 
a  lover  and  the  zeal  of  an  apostle.  Undismayed  by 
their  offensive  habits,  he  took  up  his  abode  in  the 
midst  of  them,  and  often  without  any  European  com- 
fort— sometimes  without  hat,  or  shoes  or  stockings — he 
not  only  taught  their  children,  and  preached  to  them 


166  SOCIAL   WORK. 

the  gospel,  but,  "labouring  with  his  own  hands,"  he 
showed  them  how,  by  their  own  industry,  they  might 
support  themselves. 

*'  Dr.  Vanderkemp  was  a  man  of  exalted  genius 
and  learning, '^  says  Mr.  Moifat.  ''  He  had  mingled 
with  courtiers.  He  had  been  an  alumnus  of  the 
Universities  of  Leyden  and  Edinburgh.  He  had  ob- 
tained plaudits  for  his  remarkable  progress  in  litera- 
ture, in  philosophy,  divinity,  physic,  and  the  military 
art.  He  was  not  only  a  profound  student  in  the 
ancient  languages,  but  in  many  of  the  modern  Euro- 
pean tongues,  even  to  that  of  the  Highlanders  of 
Scotland,  and  had  distinguished  himself  in  the  armies 
of  his  earthly  sovereign.  Yet  this  man,  constrained 
by  the  love  of  Christ,  could  cheerfully  lay  aside  all 
his  honours,  mingle  with  savages,  bear  their  sneers, 
and  continually  condescend  to  serve  the  meanest  of 
his  troublesome  guests,  take  the  axe,  the  sickle,  the 
spade,  and  the  mattock,  lie  down  on  the  place  where 
dogs  repose,  and  spend  nights  with  his  couch  drenched 
with  rain,  the  cold  wind  bringing  his  fragile  house 
about  his  ears.  Though  annoyed  by  the  nightly  visits 
of  hungry  hyenas,  though  compelled  to  wander  about 
in  quest  of  lost  cattle,  and  exposed  to  the  caprice  of 
those  whose  characters  were  stains  on  human  nature, 
whisperings  occasionally  reaching  his  ears  that  mur- 
derous plans  were  in  progress  for  his  destruction,  he 
calmly  proceeded  with  his  benevolent  efforts,  and,  to 
secure  his  object,  would  stoop,  with  the  meekness  of 
wisdom,  to  please  and  propitiate  those  rude  and  way- 
ward children  of  the  desert  whom  he  sought  to  bless/^ 

In  1806,  the  colony  passed  from  the  Dutch  into  the 
hands  of  the  English  ;  and,  under  the  protection  of 
Sir  David  Baird,  the  mission   of  Dr.  Vanderkemp  so 


INTERCESSORY   PRAYER.  167 

prospered,  that,  in  1810,  the  settlement  at  Bethelsdorp 
contained  nearly  a  thousand  inhabitants,  all  receiving 
Christian  instruction.  Mats  and  baskets  were  made 
in  considerable  quantities,  and  sold  in  the  surrounding 
country.  Salt  was  also  manufactured,  and  bartered 
for  wheat;  and,  by  sawing,  soap-boiling,  and  wood- 
cutting, the  people  exerted  themselves  for  an  inde- 
pendent maintenance.  Dr.  Vanderkemp,  who  sup- 
ported himself  as  a  missionary  with  scarcely  any 
charge  to  the  society,  spent  nearly  a  thousand  pounds 
of  his  patrimony  in  the  ransom  of  slaves;  and  his 
representations  to  Lord  Caledon  were  the  first  in  a 
series  of  movements  on  behalf  of  the  oppressed  abo- 
rigines, which,  in  1828,  ended  in  their  obtaining  rights 
and  privileges  in  all  respects  equal  to  those  of  the 
Dutch  and  English  settlers. 

There  is  one  means  of  well-doing  which  is  within 
the  reach  of  all,  but  which,  it  may  be  safely  affirmed, 
is  not  valued  or  practised  as  it  ought;  it  is  inter- 
cessory prayer.  "  I  thank  God,"  wrote  Paul  to 
Timothy,  *' that  without  ceasing  I  have  remembrance 
of  thee  in  my  prayers  night  and  day."*  ^'  Now  we 
live,"  he  wrote  to  his  converts  at  Thessalonica,  "if  ye 
stand  fast  in  the  Lord.  For  what  thanks  can  we 
render  to  God  again  for  you,  for  all  the  joy  wherewith 
we  joy  for  your  sakes  before  our  God;  night  and  day 
praying  exceedingly  that  we  might  see  your  face,  and 
might  perfect  that  which  is  lacking  in  your  faith  ? 
Now  God  himself  and  our  Father,  and  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  direct  our  way  unto  you.  And  the  Lord  make 
you  to  increase  and  abound  in  love  one  toward  an- 
other^ and  toward  all  men,  even  as  we  do  toward  you : 

*  2  Timothy  i.  3. 


168  SOCIAL   WORK. 

to  the  end  lie  may  stablish  your  hearts  unhhTmable  In 
holiness  before  God,  even  our  Father,  at  the  coming 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  with  all  his  saints/'* 

It  was  not  only  on  behalf  of  those  whom  he  had 
seen  in  the  flesh  that  Paul  thus  offered  intercessory 
prayer  ''without  ceasing,"  but  for  others  as  well.  ''I 
would  that  ye  knew  what  great  conflict  I  have  for  yon, 
and  for  them  at  Laodicea,  and  for  as  many  as  have  not 
seen  ray  face  in  the  flesh ;  that  their  hearts  might  be 
comforted,  being  knit  together  in  love.""}"  Paul  had 
not  yet  been  to  Rome  when  he  wrote  to  the  Christians 
in  that  city,  "  God  is  my  witness,  ....  that  without 
ceasing  I  make  mention  of  you  always  in  my  prayers/'J 
Prayer  was,  with  the  apostle  Paul,  no  apology  for  the 
neglect  of  other  means  of  doing  good,  but  neither  was 
his  incessant  activity  in  labour  an  apology  for  the 
neglect  of  prayer.  All  his  works  were  ''  begun,  con- 
tinued, and  ended  in  God."  The  command  which  he 
was  divinely  commissioned  to  send  forth  for  the  obe- 
dience of  others,  "  that  supplications,  prayers,  inter- 
cessions, and  giving  of  thanks  be  made  for  all  men/' 
was  habitually  and  heartily  obeyed  by  himself. 

The  memoirs  of  the  Rev.  George  Wagner  contain 
many  instances  of  his  constant  use  of  prayer  for 
others,  and  of  the  delight  which  he  took  in  it.  "  Inter- 
cessory prayer,"  he  said,  "  is  of  all  kinds  the  hi/jhest 
kind  of  prayer.  Do  you  ask  the  reason  ?"  We  an- 
swer, because  it  is  the  most  unselfish.  True  religion 
is  always  an  unselfish  thing.  One  great  purpose  of 
the  gospel  is  to  destroy  self,  and  to  give  us  the  victory 

over  it But  there  is  another  thought,  which 

may  serve,  perhaps,  above  every  other,  to  impress  our 
minds   with  the   blessedness  and   elevation  of  inter- 

*  1  Thes.  iii.  8—13.  f  Col.  ii.  1,  2.  %  Rom.  i.  9. 


SMALL    SERVICES.  169 

cessory  prayer ;  and  that  is,  that  it  is  the  only  kind  of 
prayer  which  our  great  High  Priest  now  offers  within 
the  veil.  Even  when  he  was  on  earth,  nearly  all  his 
recorded  prayers  are  those  of  intercession  ',  and  now, 
at  his  Father's  right  hand,  he  offers  no  other  prayers 
than  these.  *  He  ever  liveth  to  make  intercession  for 
them.'  When,  therefore,  you  plead  with  earnest 
intercession  for  others,  it  is  then  that  your  prayers 
are  most  like  your  Saviour's — then,  that  they  are  the 
nearest  echo  of  his — then  that  you  are  engaged  in  the 
selfsame  way  in  which  he  is  now  engaged  in  heaven, 
and  that  your  hidden  life  is  mosjt  like  his  glorified  life." 

These  examples  are  all  illustrations  of  obedience  to 
the  command,  "Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do, 
do  it  with  thy  might."  *  "  Whatsoever,"  includes  the 
smaller  as  well  as  the  larger  services  performed  for. 
the  glory  of  God  and  the  good  of  man.  The  service 
performed  by  the  little  captive  maid  to  her  leprous 
master  is  not  overshadowed  by  the  greater  service  that 
was  performed  by  the  prophet  that  was  in  Israel. 
"  Tertius,"  the  amanuensis  of  an  apostle,  was  permitted 
to  record  his  own  name  f  in  the  holy  book,  which  con- 
tained the  inspired  thoughts  of  his  master ;  the  scribe's 
work  was  mechanical,  but  his  heart  was  in  sympathy 
with  it,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  has  placed  his  name  in 
honourable  fellowship  with  that  of  Paul. 

In  the  Old  Testament  there  is  another  amanuensis, 
named  Baruch,  whose  services  and  trials  received  still 
more  explicit  notice  from  the  God  of  the  prophet 
whom  he  served ;  and  few  chapters  of  the  book  of 
Jeremiah  are  more  instructive  than  the  brief  one 
which  contains   the  message  of  God  to  Baruch,J — 

*  Ecclesiastes  ix.  10.  f  Komans  xvi.  22.  %  Jeremiah  xlv. 

15 


170  SOCIAL   WORK. 

a  message  which  came  during  a  great  crisis  in  the 
history  of  Israel  and  of  the  world.  Jeremiah  was 
commissioned  to  address  himself  to  kings  and  nobles, 
to  prophesy  of  coming  judgments,  and  even  to  foretell 
the  future  destinies  of  surrounding  empires  and  mo- 
narchies. And  it  was  in  the  midst  of  these  divine 
communications  that  God  turned  aside,  as  it  were,  from 
what  we  would  call  his  great  work,  to  direct  his  re- 
gards to  the  humble  man  who  sat  by  Jeremiah's  side, 
with  pen  in  hand.  The  prophet's  secretary,  a  mere 
instrument,  as  it  would  seem,  of  recording  words,  was 
not  overlooked  by  that  divine  eye  which  was  surveying 
all  the  nations  around,  and  that  divine  mind  which 
was  exercising  and  pronouncing  judgment  on  their 
destinies ;  and  in  the  midst  of  those  awful  oracles 
which  the  hand  of  Baruch  was  recording,  there  came 
to  Baruch  himself  a  voice  from  God — a  voice  of  love, 
at  once  searching,  faithful,  and  tender,  "  Thus  saith 
Jehovah  unto  thee,  0  Baruch  V 

Though  Baruch  was  the  servant  of  another,  he  had 
a  heart  and  soul  of  his  own.  He  was  not,  like  the  pen 
which  his  hand  wielded,  insensible  to  the  words  which 
he  was  tracing  on  the  scroll  before  him.  His  master 
was  a  man  of  sorrow  and  contention,  and  sometimes 
mourned  over  his  lot  bitterly  ;  and  the  servant  seems 
to  have  drunk  of  the  master's  spirit.  "  Thou  didst 
say'^ — so  runs  the  message  of  God  to  him — "  Woe  is 
me  now  !  for  the  Lord  hath  added  grief  to  my  sorrow; 
I  fainted  in  my  sighing,  and  I  find  no  rest."  With  a 
deep  sorrow  that  was  natural,  there  was  mingled  a 
want  of  submission  to  the  will  of  God — to  the  doom 
which  was  impending  over  Jerusalem  and  Judea. 
Though  his  post  was  humble,  he  was  a  true  Israelite, 
and  everything  that  concerned  Israel  concerned  him. 


THE   prophet's   SECRETARY.  171 

His  own  prospects,  too,  were  blighted  by  the  frowns  of 
the  court,  when,  as  Jeremiah's  scribe,  he  read  in  the 
ears  of  the  nobles  the  words  of  the  Lord ;  and  they 
were  doubly  blighted  by  the  predicted  destruction  of 
the  land.  The  great  One,  who  filleth  heaven  and  earth 
with  his  presence,  condescended  to  observe  the  sighing 
and  the  restlessness  of  Baruch's  heart,  and  to  send 
down  a  message  that  should  quiet  that  heart  and  quell 
its  tumult.  "  Seekest  thou  great  things  for  thyself? 
seek  them  not :  for  behold,  I  will  bring  evil  upon  all 
flesh,  saith  the  Lord  :  but  thy  life  will  I  give  unto 
thee  for  a  prey  in  all  places  whither  thou  goest.'^ 

We  are  taught  by  this  episode  in  the  prophecy  of 
Jeremiah,  that  however  humble  our  place  may  be, 
either  in  the  state  or  in  the  church,  we  are  the  distinct 
objects  of  the  regard  of  our  heavenly  Father  and 
Master,  and  to  us  his  voice  comes  as  directly  as  to  the 
mightiest  potentate  in  the  universe.  This  is  a  blessed 
fact  for  the  door-keepers  of  the  house  of  God,  for  the 
hewers  of  wood  and  the  drawers  of  water  in  the  divine 
service,  for  the  obscurest  and  humblest  whose  hand 
has  aught  to  do  with  the  work  of  God.  Reader,  what- 
ever post  you  hold  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  what- 
ever function  you  discharge,  whether  it  be  yours  to 
teach  a  crowd  or  teach  a  single  child,  to  minister  the 
one  cup  of  cold  water  or  to  consecrate  treasures  of 
gold  and  silver  to  your  Saviour,  God  does  not  over- 
look youj  his  eye,  his  ear,  his  hand,  are  all  open  to 
bless  you. 

"  The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  as  a  man  travelling 
into  a  far  country,  who  called  his  own  servants,  and 
delivered  unto  them  his  goods.  And  unto  one  he  gave 
five  talents,  to  another  two,  and  to  another  one  j  to 


172  SOCIAL   WORK, 

every  man  according  to  his  several  ability;  and 
straightway  took  his  journey,  ,  .  ,  After  a  long  time 
the  lord  of  those  servants  cometh,  and  reckoneth 
with  them,  .  .  .  Then  he  which  had  received  the  one 
talent  came  and  said,  Lord,  I  knew  thee  that  thou  art 
an  hard  man,  reaping  where  thou  hast  not  sown,  and 
gathering  where  thou  hast  not  strawed  :  and  I  was 
afraid,  and  went  and  hid  thy  talent  in  the  earth  :  lo, 
there  thou  hast  that  is  thine.  His  Lord  answered  and 
said  unto  him,  Thou  wicked  and  slothful  servant,  thou 
knewest  that  I  reap  where  I  sowed  not,  and  gather 
where  I  have  not  strawed  :  thou  oughtest  therefore  to 
have  put  my  money  to  the  exchangers,  and  then  at  my 
coming  I  should  have  received  mine  own  with  usury. 
Take  therefore  the  talent  from  him,  and  give  it  unto 
him  which  hath  ten  talents."* 

The  Christian's  responsibility  is  in  proportion  to  his 
means.  Our  Lord's  parable  reminds  us  of  the  prone- 
ness  of  those  whose  gifts  are  few  to  find  in  this  cir- 
cumstance an  apology  for  the  neglect  of  them.  But 
the  one  talent  is  often  a  very  precious  contribution  to 
the  cause  of  truth  and  mercy.  The  writing  of  a  single 
hymn,  for  example — such  a  hymn  as  has  power  to  live 
— what  a  legacy  to  the  church  of  God  !  The  name  of 
Edward  Perronet  is  known  to  the  world  only  as  the 
author  of  the  hymn,  "All  hail !  the  power  of  Jesus' 
name  ;"  and  to  discover  anything  else  respecting  him, 
one  must  search  diligently  in  the  by  paths  of  history. 
But  this  one  noble  contribution  to  the  devotion  of  the 
Christian  church  was  a  great  work.  It  was  worth 
while  to  be  born,  to  live,  and  to  die,  to  do  this  one 
thing,  *'  Forty  years  the  heart  may  have  been  in 
battle,  and  one  verse  shall  express  the  fruit  of  the 

*  Matthew  xxv,  14,  15,  19,  21—28. 


LIGHTS   AND    LIGHT-BEARERS.  173 

whole.  One  great  hope  may  come  to  fruit  only  at  the 
end  of  many  years,  and  as  the  ripening  of  a  hundred 
experiences.  Thus  born,  a  hymn  is  one  of  those  silent 
ministers  which  God  sends  to  those  who  are  to  be 
heirs  of  salvation.  It  enters  into  the  tender  imagina- 
tion of  childhood,  and  casts  down  upon  the  chambers 
of  its  thought  a  holy  radiance,  which  shall  never  quite 
depart.  It  goes  with  the  Christian,  singing  to  him 
all  the  way,  as  if  it  were  the  airy  voice  of  some 
guardian  spirit.  When  darkness  of  trouble,  settling 
fast,  is  shutting  out  every  star,  a  hymn  bursts  through 
and  brings  light  like  a  torch.  It  abides  by  our  side  in 
sickness ;  it  goes  forth  with  us  in  joy  to  syllable  that 
joy;  and  thus,  after  a  time,  we  clothe  a  hymn  with 
the  memories  and  associations  of  our  own  life." 

It  is  related  that  the  watchman  of  the  Calais  light- 
house was  boasting  of  the  brilliancy  of  his  lantern, 
which  can  be  seen  many  miles  at  sea,  when  a  visitor 
said  to  him,  "  What  if  one  of  your  lights  should 
chance  to  go  out  ?'^  "  Never,"  he  replied, — "impos- 
sible ;"  with  a  sort  of  consternation  at  the  bare  idea. 
"Sir,"  continued  he,  "yonder,  where  nothing  can  be 
seen  by  us,  there  are  ships  going  to  every  part  of  the 
world;  if  to-night  one  of  my  burners  were  out,  within 
a  year  would  come  a  letter,  perhaps  from  India, 
perhaps  from  some  place  I  never  heard  of,  saying, 
'  On  such  a  night,  at  such  an  hour,  your  light  burned 
dim ;  the  watchman  neglected  his  post,  and  vessels 
were  in  danger.'  Ah,  sir,  sometimes  in  the  dark 
night,  in  stormy  weather,  I  look  out  to  sea,  and  feel 
as  if  the  eye  of  the  whole  world  were  looking  at  my 
light.  Go  out? — burn  dim? — no,  never."  With 
similar  feelings  should  every  Christian  shudder  at  the 
thought  of  proving  negligent  or  unfaithful  to  his  trust 
15* 


174  SOCIAL   WORK. 

as  a  light  bearer  in  Lis  own  sphere^  however  humble  or 
limited. 

For  the  enlightenment  of  the  world  we  need  the 
stars  as  well  as  the  sun  and  moon.  '^  So  also  for  the 
spiritual  enlightenment  of  the  world,  God  uses  the 
lesser  as  well  as  the  greater  lights.  If  the  man  of 
genius  or  power,  on  whose  lips  tens  of  thousands  are 
hanging  for  instruction,  is  called  upon  to  shine  for 
God,  so  likewise  is  the  man  of  the  smallest  influence, 
and  of  the  humblest  capacity  :  even  the  labourer  in 
the  fields,  the  poor  woman  in  her  cottage  home,  and 
the  child  at  its  school.  Christianity  has  ever  been 
spread  more  by  the  gentle  shining  of  many  little 
lights  than  by  the  brilliant  shining  of  a  few  greater 
ones.  If  you  want  a  light  at  midnight,  it  is  of  no 
use  to  you  that  the  sun  is  shining  on  the  other  side 
of  the  earth,  or  that  a  lamp  is  burning  on  the  other 
side  of  the  street.  What  you  want  is  a  flame,  how- 
ever feeble,  which  you  can  have  near  you,  and  ever 
ready  to  show  you  light.  So  also  the  gentle  influence 
of  the  humble  Christian  shining  hourly  upon  his 
neighbour,  will  do  far  more  to  christianize  him  than 
the  wonderful  works  of  the  greatest  man  whose  light 
does  not  reach  him."* 

There  once  resided  on  the  west  coast  of  Scotland  a 
poor  widow  whose  two  sons  had  perished  at  sea. 
From  the  hour  of  her  bereavement,  she  resolved  to  do 
"  what  she  could"  to  save  those  who  might  be  tossed 
on  the  billows  which  had  engulfed  her  own  children ; 
and  all  that  she  could  do  was  to  put  her  small  oil 
lamp  at  sunset  into  her  cottage  window,  if  peradven- 
ture  its  twinkle  might  be  seen  by  the  storm-driven 
mariner.     And  there  it  shone,  that  small  and  humble 

*  "  Working  for  God,"  by  Rev.  F.  Morse,  M.  a. 


GREAT   AND    SMALL.  175 

beacon,  night  after  night,  the  widow's  willing  offering 
to  the  service  of  her  fellow-creatures.  "  She  did  what 
she  could."     "  Go  thou  and  do  likewise." 

"Nor  let  the  meanest  think  his  lamp  too  dim, 
In  a  dark  world :  the  Lord  hath  need  of  him.'' 

"  A  high  place  in  the  sight  of  God  and  man  has  the 
physician  who  remains  on  the  battle-field  after  the  con- 
quering host  has  passed  on,  tending  indiscriminately 
wounded  friends  and  wounded  foes;  or  who  plies  his 
task  in  a  plague-stricken  city,  entering  every  house 
where  a  chalk  mark  on  the  door  indicates  that  the  in- 
fection is  within.  His  is  an  honourable  work.  Angels, 
eyeing  him  as  they  pass,  might  envy  him  the  work 
which  he  has  got  in  the  service  of  the  common  Lord. 
But  every  one  of  us  might  attain  a  rank  as  high,  and 
do  a  work  as  beneficent.  If  broken  limbs  lie  not  in  our 
way,  broken  spirits  abound  in  our  neighbourhood.  Sick 
hearts  are  rife  on  the  edges  of  our  daily  walk.  Although 
we  lack  the  skill  necessary  to  cure  a  bodily  ailment, 
we  may  all  exercise  the  art  of  healing  on  diseases  that 
are  more  deeply  set.  A  loving  heart  and  a  wholesome 
tongue  are  a  sufl&cient  apparatus ;  and  the  instincts  of 
a  renewed  nature  should  be  ever  ready  to  apply  them 
in  the  time  and  place  of  need." 

In  the  bloody  strife  of  the  battle-field  there  may  be 
soldiers  who  concern  themselves  with  their  own  safety 
more  than  with  the  conquest  of  the  enemy ;  who  studi- 
ously combine  an  all-engrossing  desire  to  shield  them- 
selves from  peril,  with  a  prudent  aim  to  hide  their 
cowardice  and  save  their  good  name  from  infamy.  But 
where  the  true  spirit  of  Christian  well-doing  exists,  the 
Christian's  aim  will  be  not  to  give  as  little  as  possible, 
or  to  pray  as  little  as  possible,  or  to  labour  as  little  as 
possible, — it  will  not  be  to  devote  fragments  of  time 


176  SOCIAL   WORK. 

and  of  property  to  the  service  of  God  and  man, — but 
to  realize,  without  stint  and  without  reserve,  the  apos- 
tolic ajfirmation  and  command,  "  Know  ye  not  that .... 
ye  are  not  your  own  ?  for  ye  are  bought  with  a  price  : 
therefore  glorify  God  in  your  body,  and  in  your  spirit, 
which  are  God's."* 

"  To  him  that  knoweth  to  do  good,  and  doeth  it  not, 
to  him  it  is  sin."  And  in  most  expressive  and  cha- 
racteristic form  was  this  sin  condemned  of  old. 

" '  Curse  ye  Meroz,'  said  the  angel  of  the  Lord. 
What  has  Meroz  done?     Nothing. 

Why  then  is  Meroz  to  be  cursed  ?     Because  Meroz  did  nothing. 
What  ought  Meroz  to  have  done?     Come  to  the  help  of  the  Lord. 
Could  not  the  Lord  do  without  Meroz?     The  Lord  did  do  without  Meroz. 
Did  the  Lord,  then,  sustain  any  loss?     No,  but  Meroz  did. 
Is  Meroz  then  to  be  cursed?     Yes,  and  that  bitterly. 
Is  it  right  that  a  man  should  be  cursed  for  doing  nothing  ? 
Xes,  when  he  ought  to  do  something."! 

The  spirit  of  self-denial  goes  hand  in  hand  with  the 
spirit  of  love  in  well-doing;  and  of  self-denial,  selfish 
as  the  world  is,  the  history  of  the  church  of  Christ 
affords  bright  and  heroic  examples  in  noble-hearted 
men  who  have  forsaken  home  and  civilized  life,  and 
have  spent  their  days  among  brutal  savages  in  what, 
but  for  the  presence  of  Christ,  would  have  been  weari- 
ness and  wretchedness,  to  bring  these  savages  to  the 
knowledge  of  God  and  to  the  possession  of  eternal  life. 
Even  within  the  borders  of  civilization,  we  find  self- 
denial  in  well-doing  practised  by  men  and  women,  un- 
known to  fame,  in  circumstances  only  less  trying  than 
those  of  Vanderkemp  and  Moffat  among  Bushmen  and 
Bechuanas.  And  it  should  be  remembered  that  the 
duty  and  the  honour  of  this  grace  "  have  all  the  saints." 
Only  let  men  know  distinctly  what  self-denial  is.  In 
the  matter  o^  giving,  for  example,  nothing  that  we  can 

*  1  Corinthians  vi.  19,  20. 

t  Judges  V.  23.    Children's  Missionary  Kecord. 


"l   WAS   AN    HUNGERED."  177 

spare  without  feeling  it  can  be  brought  under  this 
name.  ^'  Liberality  and  self-denial,"  says  Dean  Alford, 
"  are  two  very  different  things.  The  man  of  wealth, 
whose  personal  comfort  and  ease  are  quite  independent 
of  his  charitable  bestowals,  may  subscribe  and  give 
largely  to  a  hundred  charities  :  in  so  doing,  he  is  per- 
forming a  sacred  duty,  and  that  duty  is  liberality ;  but 
lie  is  not  self-denying.  If,  however,  that  same  man, 
loving  his  ease,  fond  of  his  comforts,  fastidious  in  his 
tastes,  sacrifices  that  ease,  suspends  those  comforts, 
offends  those  tastes,  in  real  laborious  personal  contact 
with  poverty  and  misery;  is  beneficent  not  only  in 
matters  which  can  be  transacted  through  his  cheque- 
book, but  in  exertions  which  cost  him  time,  which  cost 
him  perhaps  painful  revulsions  of  feeling,  which  cost 
him  sacrifice  of  pride  and  exclusiveness, — then  1  should 
say  that  he  is  not  merely  liberal,  but  self-denying  also; 
that  he  has  at  any  rate  begun  to  walk  in  the  path  which 
his  Saviour  trod  before  him,  who,  from  the  spotless 
purity  of  the  Godhead  and  the  light  unapproachable, 
came  among  sinners,  and  bore  with  them,  and  wit- 
nessed their  vileness,  and  touched  their  loathsomeness. 
Practical  self-denial  does  not  belong  alone  to  the  wealthy  : 
it  is  required  of  us  all.  It  is  the  undoubted  duty  of 
persons  whom  God  has  placed  above  poverty  and 
wretchedness,  to  flow  forth  to  those  who  are  less  out- 
wardly blessed  than  themselves,  in  personal  acts  and 
words  of  kindness;  to  put  aside  their  tastes,  and 
cherished  habits,  and  worldly  pride,  and  forget  them- 
selves in  their  Christian  duty." 

Our  Lord  has  connected  the  most  solemn  sanctions  of 
the  great  day  with  earthly  acts  of  well-doing  neglected 
or  performed  in  his  name,  and  for  his  sake.     ''  I  was 


178  SOCIAL   WORK. 

an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  no  meat :  I  was  thirsty, 
and  ye  gave  me  no  drink  :  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye 
took  me  not  in  :  naked,  and  ye  clothed  me  not :  sick, 
and  in  prison,  and  ye  visited  me  not."  .  ..."  I  was  an 
hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  meat :  I  was  thirsty,  and 
ye  gave  me  drink  :  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me 
in  :  naked,  and  ye  clothed  me  :  I  was  sick,  and  ye 
visited  me  :  I  was  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me."* 
In  his  poem  of  ''  A  poor  wayfaring  Man  of  Grrief," 
Mr.  James  Montgomery  has  aflfectingly  embodied  the 
spirit  of  these  divine  words.  The  wayfarer  crosses  the 
poet's  path,  and  again  and  again  sues  so  humbly  for 
relief  that  the  poet's  heart  is  never  able  to  answer, 
"  Nay."  In  one  sorrow  after  another  he  sympathizes 
with  him,  and  out  of  one  difficulty  after  another  he  de- 
livers him.  The  test  of  his  love  and  compassion  be- 
comes more  severe  each  time ;  but  with  ever  increas- 
ing zeal  and  self-denial,  he  ministers  the  needed  help, 
till  "  to  try  his  friendship's  utmost  zeal,"  the  suffering 
wayfarer  asked  him  if  he  would  die  for  him  ?  The  flesh 
was  weak,  but  the  free  spirit  cried,  "I  will."  And 
then  he  found  out  for  whom  he  had  done  all  this. 


"  In  a  moment  to  my  view 

The  stranger  darted  from  disguise, 
The  token  in  his  hands  I  knew, 

My  Saviour  stood  before  mine  eyes. 
He  spake;  and  my  poor  name  he  named : 
'Of  me  thou  hast  not  been  ashamed, 
These  deeds  shall  thy  memorial  be; 
Fear  not,  thou  didst  them  unto  me.'  " 

*  Matthew  xxv.  36,  36,  42,  43. 


PART  THE  SECOND 


CONFLICT. 

CHAPTEH      L— CONFLICT  WITH  SIN. 

CHAPTER  IL— CONFLICT  WITH  DESPOND- 
ENCY AND  DOUBT. 

CHAPTER  III.— CONFLICT  WITH.  SUFFER- 
ING  AND  DEATH. 


"  Finally,  my  brethren,  be  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power  of  his 
might.  Put  on  the  whole  armour  of  God,  that  ye  may  be  able  to  stand 
against  the  wiles  of  the  devil.  For  we  wrestle  not  against  flesh  and  blood, 
but  against  principalities,  against  powers,  against  the  rulers  of  the  darkness 
of  this  world,  against  spiritual  wickedness  in  high  places." 

Ephjesians  vi.  10,  11, 12. 

179 


•Breast  the  wave,  Christi;m, 

When  it  is  strongest; 
Watch  for  day,  Christian, 

When  the  night's  longest. 
Onward  and  onward  still, 

Urge  thine  endeavour : 
The  rest  that  remaineth 

Shall  be  for  ever. 

right  the  fight.  Christian  : 

Jesus  is  o'er  thee, 
Eun  the  race,  Christian: 

Heaven  is  before  thee. 
He  who  hath  promised 

Faltereth  never : 
The  love  of  eternity 

Flows  on  for  ever. 

Raise  the  eye.  Christian, 

Just  as  it  closeth : 
Lift  the  heart.  Christian, 

Ere  it  reposeth. 
Thee  from  the  love  of  Christ 

Nothing  shall  sever, 
Mount  when  thy  work  is  done, 

Praise  him  for  ever." 


180 


CHAPTER    I. 

CONFLICT  WITH  SIN. 

Contents. — The  language  of  war — Heathen  speculations — The 
devil — Two  extremes— The  temptation  of  Christ— Can  we  dis- 
tinguish the  assaults  of  Satan  ? — Luther,  Bunyan,  Job,  Peter 
— How  to  use  the  sword  of  the  Spirit — No  compromise — 
Example— Conflict  with  inward  sin — Asceticism  no  cure — 
Madame  Guyon — Death  to  sin — Colonel  Gardiner — Dr.  Pay- 
son,  Pearce,  Charles  Simeon,  Chalmers,  Sarah  Martin,  Bun- 
yan— 0  wretched  man  ! — Means  of  deliverance — The  spider 
and  the  toad — Cultivation  of  the  positive  virtues — Self-denial 
— Andrew  Fuller — The  untenanted  heart — Besetting  sins — 
Charles  Simeon — Obsta  principiis — A  parable— Little  sins — 
Fasting  and  prayer — Payson — Simeon — Union  of  humilia- 
tion and  cheerfulness — The  Christian  life  a  battle  and  a 
hymn. 


"  What  the  law  could  not  do,  in  that  it  was  weak  through  the  flesh,  God, 
sending  his  own  Son  in  the  likeness  of  sinful  flesh,  and  for  sin,  condemned 
sin  in  the  flesh :  that  the  righteousness  of  the  law  might  be  fulfilled  in  us, 
who  walk  not  after  the  flesh,  but  after  the  Spirit.  .  .  .  For  if*ye  live  after 
the  flesh,  ye  shall  die :  but  if  ye  through  the  Spirit  do  mortify  the  deeds  of 
the  body,  ye  shall  live."— Komans  viii.  3,  4, 13. 


16 


18] 


"  Put  off  each  cumbrous  weight ; 
Renounce  each  darling  sin: 
lie  must  be  free  as  air, 

Who  would  Faith's  victory  win. 
With  patience  gird  the  soul  : 
Maintain  the  strife  begun  : 
Be  firm  unto  the  end : — 
On,  to  the  foe,  then,  on." 

AVELING. 

"  'Tis  not  the  skirmish  of  an  hour : 
Sin  yields  not  at  a  blow  : 
For  pride  of  heart  is  ill  to  slay ; 
And  what  seemed  overcome  to-day 
Will  be  to-morrow's  foe." 

Tholuck's  "Light  from  thb  Cuoss.' 


182 


CONFLICT    WITH    SIN. 

The  records  of  the  gospel  of  peace  are  instinct 
with  the  language  of  war.  "  I  have  fought  a  good 
fight/'  said  the  apostle  Paul ;  and  his  words  possess  a 
truer  sublimity  than  Ca3sar's  famed  dispatch,  "  I  came, 
I  saw,  I  conquered,"  inasmuch  as  the  subject  of  the 
one  is  sublimer  than  the  subject  of  the  other.  The 
battles  of  this  world  will  soon  be  forgotten,  except  so 
far  as  they  contribute  to  the  ends  of  God's  providence. 
The  battles  of  the  soul  will  never  be  forgotten  :  their 
dangers  and  their  victories  will  be  recounted  through- 
out eternity. 

Never  did  hero  fight  more  bravely  than  the  apostle 
Paul.  And  never  has  man  been  better  entitled  than 
he  to  say  at  the  end  of  his  life,  "  I  have  fought  a  good 
fight."  He  had  fought  with  fiery  and  savage  perse- 
cutors, and  though  he  raised  no  arm  against  them,  he 
overcame  them  by  "  the  irresistible  might  of  weak- 
ness." He  had  fought  with  the  ignorance,  and  errors, 
and  sins  of  the  world  ;  and  though  their  giant  hosts 
were  too  much  for  his  feeble  arm,  he  deemed  it  no 
folly  to  assail  them.  That  ancient  Book  with  which 
he  was  familiar  from  childhood,  contained  a  story  in 
which  he  could  see  as  in  an  allegory  the  picture  of  his 
own  position.  The  disparity  between  Goliath  and 
David  was  not  more  marked  than  the  disparity 
between  the  massive  and  hoary  superstitions  of  the 

183 


184  CONFLICT   WITH   SIN. 

world  and  Paul  their  assailant;  but,  as  of  old,  the 
arm  and  sling  of  David  were  nerved  and  guided  by 
the  God  of  heaven,  so  were  now  the  mind  and  tongue 
and  pen  of  Paul.  And  the  weapons  of  his  warfare 
were  mighty,  through  God,  to  the  pulling  down  of 
strong-holds.  Paul  had  to  fight  at  the  same  time  with 
the  corruptions  of  his  own  heart ;  and  his  deep  con- 
sciousness of  their  power  is  shown  in  the  language  in 
which  he  describes  his  warfare  with  them  :  "  So  fight 
I,  not  as  one  that  beateth  the  air :  but  I  keep  under 
my  body,  and  bring  it  into  subjection  :  lest  that  by  any 
means,  when  I  have  preached  to  others,  I  myself  should 
be  a  castaway."* 

But  these  are  not  the  only  enemies  with  which  this 
spiritual  hero  fought,  as  we  learn  from  his  instruc- 
tions to  the  Christians  of  Ephesus — "  Put  on  the 
whole  armour  of  God.^f  Do  not  enter  into  battle 
with  your  adversaries  naked  and  defenceless,  but  take 
to  you  arinour :  do  not  cover  one  portion  and  leave 
another  exposed,  but  put  on  the  loliole  armour:  do  not 
resort  to  any  arsenal  of  your  own,  but  put  on  the 
whole  armour  of  God  j  "  in  order  that  ye  may  be 
able  to  stand  against  the  stratagems  of  the  devil,"  the 
great  enemy  of  man,  a  fiend  veteran  and  malignant. 
''  For  our  struggle  is  not  against  flesh  and  blood."  It 
is  not  the  wrestling  on  equal  terms  of  potsherd  with 
potsherd.  It  is  an  unequal  contest ;  because  it  is  with 
spirits,  fallen  spirits,  who  once  occupied  positions  of 
rank  and  prerogative  in  heaven,  and  still  retain,  it  may 
be,  a  similar  place  among  the  hosts  of  apostate  angels. 
Our  conflict  is  with  "  the  world-rulers  of  this  dark- 
ness,"   wary    and    vengeful    antagonists    which    have 

*  1  Corinthians  ix.  26,  27.  f  Ephesians  vi.  11. 


WHENCE    GOOD    AND    EVIL?  185 

acquired  a  special  dominion  on  earth  out  of  which 
they  are  loath  to  be  dislodged.  These  "spirits  of 
evil"  have  to  be  encountered  not  on  the  open  field 
of  the  world  merely,  but  also  on  "  high"  or  "  heavenly 
places,"  the  ransomed  and  consecrated  church  of 
God,  which  they  attempt  to  pollute,  divide,  and  over- 
throw, and  whose  members  they  are  continually  tempt- 
ing to  sin  and  apostasy. 

From  this  and  many  other  Scriptures  ''  it  is  plain 
that  fallen  spirits  have  a  vast  and  mysterious  agency 
in  the  world,  and  that  in  many  ways  inscrutable  to 
man,  they  lord  it  over  ungodliness,  shaping,  deepening, 
or  prolonging  the  means  and  methods  of  spiritual  sub- 
jugation.""^ 

Ages  before  the  coming  of  Christ,  men  had  specu- 
lated on  the  moral  disorders  of  the  universe.  They 
saw  good  and  evil  standing  side  by  side  in  the  world, 
companions  everywhere,  yet  irreconcilable  foes ;  evil 
apparently  the  stronger  because  the  more  prevalent. 
Their  moral  instincts  taught  them  that  the  same  foun- 
tain could  not  send  forth  sweet  water  and  bitter — that 
the  same  being  could  not  be  the  author  both  of  good 
and  of  evil.  And  from  this  simple  argument  they 
passed  to  the  conclusion  that  there  are  two  co-equal 
deities,  or  at  least  co-equal  principles;  and  to  each  of 
the  two,  the  one  good,  the  other  evil,  they  ascribed  a 
corresponding  progeny.  In  the  poetical  or  mystical 
form  which  the  theory  usually  assumed,  good  was 
identified  with  light,  and  evil  with  darkness.  Erro- 
neous and  dreamy  as  was  this  theory,  speculation,  un- 
aided by  divine  teaching,  could  scarcely  come  nearer 
the  truth  than  it  did  in  this  instance. 

The  Bible  tells  that  there  is  a  God  with  whom 

*  Dr.  Eadie :  "  Commentary  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians." 
16* 


186  CONFLICT    WITH    SIN. 

all  goodness  originated,  and  a  devil  with  whom  origi- 
nated evil.  But  these  are  not  co-equal  deities.  The 
one  is  the  Creator,  the  other  is  the  creature ;  and  this 
creature  was  created  holy  with  the  image  of  his  Maker. 
How  he  fell  into  sin  we  have  no  means  of  knowing. 
It  is  a  mystery  which  no  human  intellect  has  yet 
fathomed.  But  that  he  did  fall — that  since  his  fall 
he  has  devoted  his  mighty  energies  to  the  propagation 
of  sin,  and  that,  with  legions  of  spirits  whom  he  has 
drawn  with  him  into  the  vortex  of  rebellion,  he  is  now 
busily  occupied  in  tempting  men  to  evil — we  believe  on 
the  authority  of  a  divine  testimony. 

With  some  the  devil  is  only  a  personification 
of  the  principle  of  evil.  But  they  might  almost 
as  well  say  that  God  is  the  personification  of 
the  principle  of  good.  There  is  a  distinct  living 
personality  ascribed  to  the  devil  throughout  Holy 
Scripture.  But,  from  the  extreme  of  denying  all  real 
living  existence  to  Satan,  some  have  passed  to  the 
opposite  extreme  of  regarding,  or  seeming  to  regard, 
all  the  evil  that  is  in  the  world  as  the  direct  work  of 
Satan.  That  is,  when  man  does  an  evil  thing,  it  is 
not  man  that  does  it  but  the  devil  in  him.  When 
man's  will  is  perverse,  and  chooses  wrong  and  rejects 
good,  it  is  not  man  himself  that  does  so  :  his  will  is 
under  the  despotic  control  of  the  author  of  evil.  It 
is  scarcely  man's  will  at  all,  it  is  the  devil's  will  acting 
through  him.  Human  evil-doing  is,  properly  speak- 
ing, diabolical  evil-doing.  It  is  human  only  in  form  : 
man  is  but  the  instrument,  the  devil  is  the  real  agent. 
So  far  is  this  notion  carried,  that  we  might  almost 
suppose  that  men's  minds  are  now  as  passive  in  the 
hands  of  Satan  as  the  bodies  of  men  were  when  pos- 
sessed by  evil  spirits  in  the  days  of  our  Lord.     But 


THE   DEVIL   AND    HIS    WORK.  187 

this  must  be  a  great  mistake.  If  it  were  at  all  ac- 
cording to  truth,  man  would  be  no  sinner  in  the  com- 
mission of  his  own  sins  :  bis  sins  would  be  misfortunes, 
not  crimes  :  the  only  true  sinner  in  a  world  of  sinners 
would  be  the  devil  himself. 

Between  these  two  extremes  of  making  the  devil 
nothing,  and  making  him  everything,  there  lie  all 
shades,  not  so  much  of  opinion  as  of  feeling  in  regard 
to  the  wicked  one  and  his  work.  The  points  that 
seem  essential  to  truth  in  regard  to  it  are,  on  the  one 
hand,  that  he  is  a  real  living  being,  and  that  his  angels 
are  real  living  beings,  actively  engaged  in  the  tempta- 
tion of  man ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  that  when  man 
is  tempted  successfully,  yields  to  the  temptation  and 
does  the  evil,  the  sin  of  yielding  and  of  doing  is  his 
own.  It  is  a  sin  on  the  part  of  the  devil  to  seek  to  draw 
men  into  evil :  it  is  a  sin  on  the  part  of  man  to  be 
drawn  into  evil.  Whatever  amount  of  influence  the 
tempter  puts  forth,  it  is  never  such  as  so  to  overpower 
the  tempted  that  he  is  without  blame  in  yielding. 
He  has  no  such  power  as  God  has  to  touch  the  inner- 
most springs  of  the  will  and  the  soul.  His  power  is 
the  same,  in  kind  at  least,  as  that  of  human  tempters. 
By  the  voice  and  otherwise,  they  present  to  each  other 
motives  and  inducements  to  sin.  Without  the  voice, 
in  some  way  to  us  unknown,  he  too  presents  motives 
and  inducements  to  sin.  In  both  cases  it  is  by  the 
presentation  or  suggestion  of  evil  motives  that  the 
temptation  is  effected.  The  devil  may  have  immensely 
readier  access  to  the  human  mind  than  men  have. 
But  our  spiritual  nature  is  not  at  his  mercy;  and 
whatever  hand  Satan  has  in  our  sins,  it  is  still  true 
that  we  are  successfully  tempted  only  when  "  we  are 
drawn  away  of  our  own  lusts  and  enticed." 


188  CONFLICT   WITH  SIN. 

Of  the  ^'stratagems"  or  "wiles"  of  tlie  devil  we 
have  many  instances  in  the  narratives  of  Holy  Scrip- 
ture. He  unsettled  the  mind  of  Eve  by  representing 
God  as  jealous  of  the  happiness  of  his  own  creatures, 
and  yet  too  indulgent  to  punish  their  sins;  he  stirred 
up  the  royal  and  warlike  aspirations  of  David  to  take 
a  military  census  and  force  a  conscription  as  the  basis 
of  a  standing  army ;  he  inflamed  the  avaricious  and 
sordid  spirit  of  Judas;  and,  more  wicked  and  daring 
than  all,  he  attempted  to  draw  the  Son  of  God  himself 
into  sin. 

The  temptation  of  Christ  in  the  wilderness  is  one 
of  the  most  prominent  facts  in  his  history,  and  one  of 
the  most  mysterious.  The  supernatural  circumstances 
connected  with  it  form  but  a  small  part  of  the  mystery. 
His  Godhead  and  his  sinlessness  separate  him  so  far 
from  our  condition  that  we  are  apt  to  imagine  that  his 
temptation  was  unreal.  Yet  we  may  be  assured  that 
that  was  no  mock  fight  between  Christ  and  Satan 
which  the  Gospels  record.  Christ,  as  we  have  often 
to  remind  ourselves,  was  a  true  man,  and,  as  such,  he 
was  assailed  at  every  point  at  which  human  nature  is 
vulnerable.  He  was  "  in  all  points  tempted  like  as  we 
are,  yet  without  sin."* 

There  is  no  part  of  our  Lord's  life  that  has  a  more 
constant  bearing  on  our  daily  conflicts  with  sin  than 
the  history  of  his  temptation.  The  devil  still  goeth 
about  as  a  roaring  lion,  seeking  whom  he  may  devour. 
He  may  find  them,  as  he  found  Christ,  in  the  very 
act  of  receiving  the  baptism  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and 
along  with  it  such  testimony  as  Christians  now  have, 
that  they  are  the  sons  of  God;  but  he  has  no  respect 

*  Ilebrews  iv.  15. 


THE    ASSAULTS    OF    SATAN.  18& 

to  God's  will  or  to  the  soul's  sanctity  to  deter  him 
from  intruding  even  there  with  his  foulest  temptations. 
John  Bunyan  places  the  Valley  of  Humiliation  imme- 
diately after  the  Palace  Beautiful  in  the  way  to  heaven. 
And  from  this  palace,  where  Christian's  soul  was  filled 
with  joy  and  peace,  and  whence  he  obtained  a  distant 
view  of  the  Delectable  Mountains  and  the  promised 
land,  he  had  to  descend  into  the  Valley  of  Humiliation 
to  encounter  Apollyon  in  deadly  conflict.  No  present 
spiritual  attainment  or  enjoyment  renders  us  secure 
from  the  presence  and  assaults  of  the  devil. 

But  can  we  distinguish  the  assaults  of  Satan  from 
those  temptations  in  which  it  may  be  supposed  there 
is  nothing  but  the  hand  of  a  fellow-man  and  the 
corruption  of  our  own  hearts?  Perhaps  we  cannot. 
Luther  saw  the  direct  work  of  the  wicked  one  in 
every  evil  under  the  sun.  "  Whatever  resistance  he 
met  with ;  whatever  obstacle  to  divine  grace  he  found 
in  his  own  heart  or  in  external  circumstances;  what- 
ever event  he  saw  plainly  cast  in  the  way  of  the  pro- 
gress of  the  gospel;  whatever  outbreak  of  a  bad  or 
unamiable  spirit  occurred  in  the  church;  whatever 
strange  phenomenon  of  nature  wore  a  malevolent 
aspect ;"  the  hand  of  the  devil  was  in  it  all. 

"  The  Lord  God  sends  no  misfortune  into  the 
world/'  he  said,  "  except  through  Satan,  from  whom 
comes  all  affliction,  misery,  and  disease/*  But  if  in 
this  Luther  went  beyond  the  "  warranty  of  Holy 
Scripture,"  he  had  the  highest  authority  for  saying, 
*'  Satan  shoots  dreadful  thoughts,  like  fiery  darts,  into 
the  hearts  of  those  who  fear  God."  x\nd  of  this 
he  had  his  own  bitter  experience.  ''  It  is  reported  of 
him,  that  being  tempted  to  make  away  with  himself, 
the  temptation  was  so  fierce  and  pressing  upon  him,  that 


190  CONFLICT    WITH    SIN. 

falling  into  an  agony,  and  as  it  were  struggling  for 
life,  he  had  no  other  way  to  defend  himself,  but,  during 
the  conflict,  by  frequently  urging  and  repeating  over 
and  over  again  to  himself  the  sixth  commandment, 
*  Thou  shalt  do  no  murder  :  Thou  shalt  do  no  murder:' 
that  so  by  encountering  this  fiery  dart,  with  the  con- 
tinually renewed  evidence  of  the  sin  offered'fuU  and 
fresh  to  his  faith,  in  the  peremptory  express  words  of 
the  precept,  he  might  relieve  his  labouring  mind 
against  the  present  violence  of  that  impious  sugges- 
tion." 

Of  this  class  of  temptations  John  Bunyan  had  a 
bitter  and  varied  experience.  "  For  about  the  space 
of  a  month,"  he  says,  speaking  of  the  commencement 
of  his  Christian  life,  "  a  very  great  storm  came  down 
upon  me,  which  handled  me  twenty  times  worse  than 
all  I  had  met  with  before.  It  came  stealing  upon  me, 
now  by  one  piece,  then  by  another ;  first,  all  my  com- 
fort was  taken  from  me;  then  darkness  seized  upon 
me ;  after  which,  whole  floods  of  blasphemies,  both 
against  God,  Christ,  and  the  Scriptures,  were  poured 
upon  my  spirit  to  my  great  confusion  and  astonish- 
ment." 

The  poor  tempted  soul  was  delivered  at  this  time ; 
but  after  a  brief  interval,  temptation  returned  in 
another  form.  "  Sell  Christ,  sell  him,  sell  him,  sell 
him,"  was  sounded  in  his  ears  as  fast  as  man  can 
speak ;  and  Bunyan  was  tortured  as  upon  the  rack ; 
and,  trembling  with  dread  lest  he  should  consent 
thereto,  he  bent  the  whole  force  of  his  being  with 
unutterable  agony  against  it.  At  length,  one  morn- 
ing there  seemed  to  pass  deliberately  through  his 
heart,  as  if  he  were  tired  of  resistance,  this  thought, 
"Let  him   go  if  he   will;"  and  from   that  moment 


VALLEY    OF   THE    SHADOW    OF   DEATH.  191 

down  he  fell,  "  as  a  bird  that  is  shot  from  the  top  of  a 
tree,  into  great  guilt  and  fearful  despair."  An  expe- 
rience which  probably  suggested  the  description  of 
the  passage  of  Christian  through  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death.  "  I  took  notice  that  now  poor 
Christian  was  so  confounded  that  he  did  not  know  his 
own  voice;  and  thus  I  perceived  it.  Just  when  he  was 
come  over  against  the  mouth  of  the  burning  pit,  one  of 
the  wicked  ones  got  behind  him,  and  stepped  up  softly 
to  him,  and,  whispering,  suggested  many  grievous 
blasphemies  to  him,  which  he  verily  thought  had  pro- 
ceeded from  his  own  mind.  This  put  Christian  more 
to  it  than  anything  that  he  met  before,  even  to  think 
that  he  should  now  blaspheme  Him  that  he  loved  so 
much  before ;  yet  if  he  could  have  helped  it  he  would 
not  have  done  it.  But  he  had  not  the  discretion 
either  to  stop  his  ears  or  to  know  from  whence  those 
blasphemies  came.'^ 

Bunyan,  it  is  true,  was  a  man  of  vivid  and  almost 
restless  imagination,  and  he  had  been  a  man  of  wicked 
thoughts  and  wicked  deeds.  But  this  will  not  account 
for  the  blasphemies  which  rendered  two  years  of  his 
life  miserable,  at  a  time  when,  through  the  grace  of 
G^d,  the  whole  strength  of  his  soul  was  set  against 
sin,  and  his  conscience  was  sensitively  alive  to  all  that 
was  offensive  to  his  God  and  Saviour.  Evil  thoughts 
could  not  spring  out  of  Christ's  soul,  for  he  was 
perfectly  sinless ;  nor  could  they  originate  in  his  imagi- 
nation, for  it  was  constitutionally  perfect,  and  abun- 
dantly replenished  with  forms  of  heavenly  beauty. 
And  yet  he  was  assailed  by  evil  thoughts ;  and  these 
could  only  come  from  the  personal  suggestions  of  the 
evil  one.  And  this  is  the  judgment  which  Bunyan 
pronounced  on  his  own  case  many  years  after,  although 


192  CONFLICT    WITH    SIN. 

at  the  time  ^'  he  had  not  the  discretion  either  to  stop 
his  ears  or  to  know  from  whence  those  blasphemies 
came." 

On  this  point  the  experience  of  men  recorded  in  Holy 
Scripture,  and  of  others,  illustrate  each  other.  "  Take 
Job,  for  example/^  says  Dr.  Cheever.  "  If  a  man  say, 
this  experience  of  Bunyan  is  all  a  delusion,  it  is  merely 
his  own  imagination  tormentino;  him,  there  never  was 
or  could  be  such  a  reality  :  we  say,  Beware  :  this  expe- 
rience of  Bunyan  has  its  original  in  the  word  of  God 
itself;  it  is  countersigned,  as  it  were,  in  Job's  history. 
Or  if  a  man  say  this  experience  of  Job  is  figurative; 
no  man  ever  experienced  such  dealings  in  reality :  we 
say,  So  far  from  this,  other  men  have  experienced  such 
discipline ;  it  is  countersigned,  as  it  were,  and  illus- 
trated in  the  experience  of  a  modern  Christian.  It  is 
true  that  in  the  account  of  Job  the  steps  are  marked 
by  the  divine  hand;  but  in  the  account  of  Bunyan 
also  the  steps  are  just  as  clear,  with  that  single  excep- 
tion. They  are  almost  as  clear  as  if  it  had  been  said, 
as  in  the  case  of  Job,  There  was  a  man  in  the  land  of 
England  whom  Grod  would  take  and  prepare  for  the 
greatest  usefulness  of  all  men  living.  And  Satan  said, 
Let  me  take  Bunyan,  and  I  will  tempt  him  from  his 
integrity,  and  make  him  curse  God,  and  deny  his  very 
being.  And  God  said,  Let  Satan  try  his  uttermost 
upon  this  man ;  and  the  awful  discipline  shall  only 
prepare  him  for  greater  usefulness  and  glory.  So 
Satan  went  forth,  and  by  the  space  of  two  years  filled 
the  soul  of  Bunyan  with  distresses  and  temptations, 
and  the  fiery  darts  of  the  wicked  one.  Is  not  this 
the  very  truth  of  the  matter  ?  You  may  say  that 
with  Job  Satan's  temptations  were  all  external,  while 
with  Bunyan  they  were  mostly  inward.     Yes,  but  let 


JOB   AND   PETER.  193 

it  be  remembered  that  Job  had  a  bosom  companion,  a 
treacherous,  unbelieving,  discontented  wife,  who  would, 
in  the  place  of  the  devil,  do  all  the  whisperings  and 
the  blasphemous  suggestions  that  were  needed.  Yea, 
while  Job  was  passing  through  the  valley  of  tempta- 
tion, this  woman  was  as  a  fiend  at  his  ear  :  '  Curse  God 
and  die,'  to  make  it  as  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death.  Bunyan,  on  the  other  hand,  had  a  good  wife, 
who  would  do  no  part  of  the  work  of  the  tempter,  but 
would  shield  her  husband,  and  help  him  on  to  God." 

Christ  warned  Peter  that  Satan  would  try  him  to 
the  utmost  of  his  malignity  and  power.  "  Simon, 
Simon.,  behold,  Satan  hath  desired  to  have  you,  that 
he  may  sift  you  as  wheat.''*  "  This  is  the  very 
renewal  of  the  scene  in  the  Old  Testament  in  regard 
to  Job.  Let  me  but  lay  my  hand,  says  this  sarcastic 
and  malignant  devil,  upon  this  Peter,  this  disciple  so 
hot  and  zealous  for  his  Lord  and  Master,  and  I  will 
make  bim  blaspheme  bis  very  Saviour.  I  will  make 
him  curse  God  and  die.  Yes;  and  the  devil  did 
succeed  in  making  him  curse  God.  Awful,  awful 
truth  !  Fearful  revelation  of  the  meaning  of  our 
Saviour  in  his  warning  to  Peter,  and  of  the  dreadful 
power  of  this  tempter  of  mankind !  But  he  did  not 
succeed  in  making  him  die,  nor  in  utterly  putting  out 
the  light  of  faith  and  life  within  him.  No,  there 
again  was  Satan  disappointed,  and  out  of  evil  still  was 
brought  forth  good.  But  why,  how,  by  what  agency? 
Oh,  how  beautiful,  how  precious  is  the  explanation  ! 
*  Simon,  Simon,  behold,  Satan  hath  desired  to  have  you, 
that  he  may  sift  you  as  wheat;  hut  I  have  prayed  for 
thee,  that  thy  faith  fail  not.^  So  thou  shalt  yet  be  saved 
and  strengthened,  even  though   thou  shalt  deny  thy 

*  Luke  xxii.  31. 

17 


194  CONFLICT   WITH   SIN. 

Lord ;  and  '  wlien  thou  art  converted,  strengthen  thy 
brethren/  Ah  yes,  that  was  the  reason  I  have  prayed 
for  thee.  And  what  saint  is  there  that  Christ  does 
not  pray  for?  So,  if  our  trust  be  in  him,  we  are  all 
safe,  but  not  otherwise.  And  now  who  does  not  see 
that  in  Peter's  case,  just  as  in  Bunyan's,  these  dread- 
ful storms  of  temptation  were  permitted  to  overwhelm 
him,  that  even  out  of  that  terrible  experience,  out  of 
those  very  depths  of  Satan,  the  tempted  and  fallen 
disciple  might  gain  a  strength  in  the  end,  through  the 
good  Spirit  of  God,  which  not  another  of  the  breth- 
ren, except  perhaps  Paul,  ever  manifested  ?  And 
hence  you  can  trace  in  Peter's  rich  instructive  epistles 
a  knowledge  of  the  great  adversary,  and  a  warning 
and  a  vigilance  against  him,  that  sprang  from  Peter's 
own  dreadful  wrestlings  with  him.  Yea,  those  very 
blasphemies  that  Satan  made  Peter  utter  turned  out 
to  be  the  most  effective  weapons  in  remembrance 
against  himself." 

If  there  be  temptations  in  reference  to  which  it 
would  be  difficult  to  say  whether  there  be  any  tempter 
other  than  the  human — temptations  in  which  our  own 
hearts  are  both  tempted  and  tempting — it  is  still  a 
solemn  and  alarming  thought  that  Satan  mai/  have  his 
hand  in  them.  There  is,  perhaps,  no  temptation  in 
reference  to  which  we  can  say  with  certainty,  "Satan 
is  not  here.''  And  the  possibility  of  his  presence  and 
agency  should  awaken  immediate  concern.  "I  am 
thankful,"  says  one,  "  that  the  existence  of  Satan  has 
been  revealed.  Could  I  tell  you,  man  of  business, 
that  in  your  warehouse  there  lurks  a  wretch,  whose 
constant  aim  is  to  plunder  your  property  and  alienate 
your  supporters,  I  should  lay  you  under  a  weight  of 


NO   COMPROMISE.  195 

obligation  and  gratitude :  you  would  thank  me  for 
information  so  important  and  so  invaluable.  So  with 
reference  to  this  implacable  foe  to  God  and  man.  I 
thank  God  that  he  has  told  me  of  Satan's  existence, 
and  provided  a  panoply  against  which  the  artillery  of 
hell  is  powerless." 

lu  our  Lord's  conflict  with  Satan  we  have  an 
example  of  steadfast  resistance  to  evil  without  truce 
or  compromise.  And  the  Christian  who  would  stand 
in  the  evil  day  must  do  likewise.  The  smallest  con- 
cession may  prove  the  one  fatal  step  that  shall  be 
irretrievable.  "  I  have  heard  it  reported,"  says  Dr. 
South,  and  whether  the  story  be  fact  or  fable  the 
moral  is  the  same,  "  of  a  certain  monk  or  prelate,  who 
for  a  long  time  together  was  continually  urged  and  so- 
licited, or  rather  worried  and  pursued,  with  three  foul 
and  horrid  temptations  :  namely,  to  commit  murder, 
or  fornication,  or  to  be  drunk ;  till  at  length,  quite 
wearied  out  with  the  restless,  vexatious  importunity 
of  the  tempter,  he  pitches  upon  the  sin  of  drunken- 
ness, as  the  least  of  the  three,  to  avoid  his  solicitation 
to  the  other  two.  This  was  the  course  he  took  to  rid 
himself  of  a  vehement  temptation.  But  the  tempter, 
who  was  much  the  better  artist  of  the  two,  knew  how 
to  make  the  very  same  course  he  took  to  decline  it,  an 
effectual  means  to  push  it  on  and  enforce  it.  For, 
having  once  prevailed  and  carried  his  point  so  far  as 
to  bring  him  to  be  drunk,  he  quickly  brought  him  in 
the  strength  thereof  to  commit  both  the  other  sins  too. 
Such  are  we,  when  God  abandons  us  to  ourselves  and 
our  own  deluded  and  deluding  judgment.  Whereas, 
had  this  poor  wretch,  under  his  unhappy  circum- 
stances,   betaken    himself    to    frequent    prayer    and 


196  CONFLICT   WITH   SIN. 

fasting,  with  a  vigilant  and  severe  shunning  all 
occasions  of  sin,  such  especially  as  either  his  natural 
temper  or  his  inactive  way  of  living  put  him  in  most 
danger  of,  I  dare  undertake  that,  following  such  a 
course,  he  would  neither  have  worn  out  his  knees  with 
praying,  nor  his  body  with  fasting,  before  God  would 
have  given  him  an  answer  of  peace,  and  a  full  con- 
quest over  his  temptations.  We  should  upon  no 
terms  account  any  sin  small ;  for  whatsoever  it  may  be 
reckoned,  if  compared  with  others  of  a  higher  guilt 
and  malignity,  yet  still,  considered  absolutely  in  itself, 
it  is  not  so  small,  but  that  it  is  an  act  of  rebellion 
against  the  Supreme  Lord  and  Governor  of  the 
universe,  by  a  direct  violation  of  his  law ;  not  so 
small,  but  that  by  the  same  law  it  merits  damnation 
to  the  sinner  in  the  eternal  destruction  of  his  soul  and 
body ;  nor,  lastly,  so  small,  but  that  as  it  merits,  so  it 
would  actually  and  infallibly  inflict  the  same  upon 
him,  had  not  the  Son  of  God  himself  shed  his  blood 
and  laid  down  his  very  life,  both  as  a  satisfaction  for 
the  sin,  and  a  ransom  for  the  sinner.  And,  if  all  this 
must  be  owned  and  submitted  to  as  uncontrollable 
truth,  from  what  topic  of  reason  or  religion  can  the 
most  acute  disputant  argue  for  the  smallness  of  any 
sin  ?  Nevertheless,  admitting  (without  granting)  that 
a  sin  were  never  so  small,  yet  certain  it  is,  that  the 
greatest  and  the  foulest  sins,  which  the  corrupt  nature 
of  man  is  capable  of  committing,  generally  enter 
upon  the  soul  by  very  small  and  scarcely  observable 
instances  at  first.  So  that,  of  all  the  courses  which 
a  man  in  such  a  state  can  take,  this  of  capitulating, 
and,  as  it  were,  making  terms  with  the  devil,  is  the 
most  senseless  and  dangerous  :  no  man  having  ever  yet 
driven  a  saving  bargain  with  this  great  truckler  for 


"mortify  your  members."  197 

souls,  by  exchanging  guilts,  or  bartering  one  sin  for 
another." 

In  one  respect,  Jesus  Christ  has  left  us  no  ex- 
ample,— and  it  is  his  glory  that  he  has  not.  He  has 
left  us  no  example  of  conflict  with  inward  or  actual 
sin.  He  was  born  without  sin,  and  he  was  successful 
in  repulsing  every  assault  that  was  made  on  his  inborn 
purity.  ''  Man-soul"  in  his  person  (to  use  the  lan- 
guage of  Bunyan's  "  Holy  War")  was  never  entered 
by  "  Diabolus."  The  '*  famous  and  stately  castle" 
within  it — "  for  strength,  it  may  be  called  a  palace ; 
for  pleasantness,  a  paradise ;  for  largeness,  a  place  so 
copious  as  to  contain  all  the  w^orld" — never  surren- 
dered to  the  arch-assailant :  his  heart  was  never  other 
than  a  most  perfect  temple  of  the  Most  High. 

How  far  otherwise  it  is  with  Christians  may  be  seen 
in  such  apostolic  precepts  as  these  : — '*  Mortify  your 
members  w^hich  are  upon  the  earth ;  fornication,  un- 
cleanness,  inordinate  affection,  evil  concupiscence,  and 
covetousness,  which  is  idolatry  :  ...  in  the  which  ye 
also  walked  some  time,  when  ye  lived  in  them.  But 
now  ye  also  put  ojff  all  these;  anger,  wrath,  malice, 
blasphemy,  filthy  communication  out  of  your  mouth,"* 
The  work  of  purifying,  which  is  here  prescribed  and 
insisted  on,  is  one  that  requires  wisdom,  earnestness, 
constancy,  with  more  than  mortal  strength.  Let  us  try 
to  understand  what  it  is,  and  how  it  is  to  be  performed. 
Asceticism  has  entirely  missed  the  scriptural 
meaning  of  "  mortification."  In  its  dogmas  and 
practices,  we  have  an  apostle's  authority  for  saying 
that  there  is  only  "a  show  of  wisdom."  The  body 
is   not  ^'kept   under,"  but  lacerated   and   tormented 

*  Colossians  iii.  5,  7,  8. 
17* 


198  CONFLICT    WITH    SIN. 

into  debility.  The  appetites  are  looked  upon  as  in 
themselves  sinful,  and  fit  only  to  be  exterminated. 
The  physical  constitution  is  thus  enervated  and 
sickened.  Yet  its  sinful  tendencies  are  only  beaten 
down,  not  eradicated.  The  whole  process  is  a  car- 
dinal mistake.  The  body  may  be  reduced ;  and  yet 
the  evil  bias  remain  unchecked.  A  man  may  whip 
and  fast  himself  into  a  walking  skeleton  ;  and  yet 
the  spirit  within  him  may  have  its  lusts  unconquered, 
losing  only  the  ability  to  gratify  them.  To  place  a 
fetter  on  a  robber's  hands  will  not  cure  him  of 
covetousness,  though  it  may  disqualify  him  for  actual 
theft.  To  seal  up  a  swearer's  mouth  will  not  pluck 
profanity  out  of  his  heart,  though  it  may  for  the  time 
prevent  him  from  taking  God's  name  in  vain.  And 
so  to  lacerate  the  flesh,  even  if  it  be  to  the  verge  of 
suicide,  merely  incapacitates  it  for  indulgence,  and 
does  not  extirpate  sinful  desire. 

It  is  said  that  an  ancient  philosopher,  a  pupil  of 
the  illustrious  Plato,  "  would  never  mention  who  hia 
father  or  his  mother  was,  or  where  he  was  born,  or 
anything  of  that  description,  because  he  always  ap- 
peared to  be  ashamed  that  he  had  a  body."  These 
men  regarded  the  body  as  a  filthy  garment,  with 
which  the  soul,  in  its  wanderings,  becomes  accidentally 
invested  for  a  short  time,  which  can  never  be  rendered 
a  congenial  or  suitable  covering  for  the  spirit,  but 
which  that  spirit  should  only  loathe,  separate  itself 
from,  and  escape  out  of  as  quickly  as  possible ;  and 
it  is  this  heathen  speculation  that  has  poisoned  so 
much  of  the  nominal  Christianity  of  many  ages.  But 
"  the  Holy  Scriptures  inform  us  that  man's  body,  no 
less  than  his  soul,  is  the  work  of  God,  and  that  he 
made  both  of  them  ^  very  good' ;  that  both  are  fallen 


MADAME   GUYON's    SELF-INFLICTIONS.  199 

and  polluted  bj  sin,  both  redeemed  by  the  blood  of 
Christ,  both  subjects  of  sanctification  by  the  Holy 
Spirit;  and  that  the  body  is  co-heir,  with  the  soul,  of 
that  immortal  life  which  is  God's  promise  to  us  in  his 
Son.  No  contrast  can  be  more  striking  than  that  be- 
tween the  language  of  contempt  and  even  of  hatred  in 
which  the  heathen  sages  speak  of  the  body,  and  the 
reverential  and  honourable  terms  used  by  the  sacred 
writers  on  the  same  subject." 

The  strong  hold  which  false  notions  respecting  the 
body  have  taken  of  the  human  heart  may  be  seen  in 
the  case  of  Madame  Guyon.  Even  after  she  had  re- 
ceived considerable  enlightenment  in  divine  truth, 
and  could  say,  ''  I  had  now  no  sight  but  of  Jesus 
alone,"  with  a  strange  inconsistency,  the  fruit  of  her 
Romish  education,  she  inflicted  on  herself  a  series  of 
the  most  painful  and  repulsive  austerities.  Every  day 
for  some  time  she  disciplined  herself  with  scourges 
pointed  with  iron  ;  she  tore  her  flesh  with  brambles, 
thorns,  and  nettles ;  very  often  she  kept  wormwood 
in  her  mouth,  and  put  coloquintida  in  her  food. 
When  she  walked  she  put  stones  in  her  shoes.  All 
that  could  allure  the  taste  or  please  the  senses  was 
refused  to  them :  all  that  created  the  greatest  dislike 
or  pain  was  given  them.  She  aimed  to  annihilate  the 
distinction  between  pleasant  and  unpleasant,  sweet 
and  bitter,  and  to  train  her  senses  to  a  state  of  perfect 
indifi'erence  to  both.  Her  thirst  for  pain  and  sufi"ering 
seemed  unquenchable. 

These  mortifications  were  practised  by  Madame 
Guyon,  not  as  expiatory  but  as  disciplinary.  She  did 
not  hope  to  atone  for  guilt  thereby,  but  to  conform 
her  heart  and  habits  to  the  standard  which  she  had 
set  before  herself.    But  even  in  this  she  was  mistaken, 


200  CONFLICT    WITH    SIN. 

as  she  afterwards  discovered.  One  of  the  gravest 
charges  against  her  at  a  later  period  of  her  life  was, 
that  she  did  not  value  self-imposed  penance  as  she 
ought.  "  Is  it,"  said  Bossuet  to  her,  "  is  it  a  mark, 
Madam,  of  Christian  lowliness  to  disregard  the  prin- 
ciples and  practices  which  have  been  sanctioned  by  the 
wisdom  and  piety  of  many  ages  ?  In  your  '  Short 
Method  of  Prayer'  there  are  some  expressions  which 
seem  to  imply  that  the  austerities  and  mortifications 
which  are  practised  in  the  Catholic  church  are  not 
necessary/'  "  I  admit,''  she  replied,  "  that  my  views 
and  practices  differ  in  this  particular  from  those  of 
soniye  other  persons.  I  cannot  say  that  I  do  now,  with 
the  views  which  I  have  of  the  power  and  applications 
of  faith,  attach  that  importance  to  austerities  and  prac- 
tices of  physical  mortification  which  I  once  did.  My 
view  now  is  this  :  Physical  sufferings  and  mortifica- 
tions which  tend  to  bring  the  appetites  into  subjection, 
and  to  restore  us  in  that  respect  to  harmony  with 
God,  are  of  great  value :  they  are  a  part  of  God's 
discipline,  which  he  has  wisely  instituted  and  rendered 
operative  in  the  present  life ;  but  then  they  should 
not  be  self-sought  or  self  inflicted,  but  should  be 
received  and  submitted  to  as  they  come  in  the  course 
of  God's  providence.  In  other  words,  crosses  are 
good  :  our  rebellious  nature  needs  them  :  not  those, 
however,  which  are  of  merely  human  origin,  but  those 
which  God  himself  makes  and  imposes." 

The  apostle  Paul,  whose  guidance  we  follow  im- 
plicitly, declares  that  self-inflicted  bodily  mortifica- 
tions are  not  only  inef&cacious,  having  "  only  a  show 
of  wisdom,"  but  that  they  also  produce  an  effect 
directly  the  opposite  to  their  professed  design.  Their 
avowed  purpose  is  to  lower  and  abase  humanity;  and 


SCRIPTURAL   MORTIFICATION.  201 

Paul  gives  them  epithets  all  showing  this  object;  while 
with  sternness  and  force  he  adds,  in  effect,  that  their 
only  result  is  to  rouse  up  and  inflate  unregenerate 
humanity.  When  Diogenes  lifted  his  foot  on  Plato's 
velvet  cushion,  and  shouted,  "  Thus  I  trample  on 
Plato's  pride,"  the  Athenian  sage  justly  replied,  "  But 
with  still  greater  pride/'  The  apostle  utters  a  similar 
sentiment :  the  carnal  nature  is  all  the  while  gratified, 
even  though  the  body,  wan  and  wasted,  be  reduced  to 
the  point  of  bare  existence.  There  is  as  much  pride 
in  cells  and  cloisters  as  in  courts  and  palaces,  perhaps 
more;  and  oftentimes  as  gross  sensuality.  Bodily 
self-inflictions,  so  far  from  accomplishing  their  osten- 
sible object,  really  produce  the  reverse  :  their  humility 
is  pride  in  its  most  sullen  and  offensive  form ;  and,  so 
far  from  subduing  and  sanctifying,  they  only  gratify 
to  satiety  the  coarse  and  selfish  passions ;  nay,  as 
history  has  shown,  tend  to  nurse  licentiousness  in  one 
age,  and  a  ferocious  fanaticism  in  another.* 

The  death  which  the  words  ''  mortify  your  mem- 
bers" enjoin  as  a  duty,  is  a  death  to  all  sinful  propensi- 
ties— the  apostle  being  his  own  interpreter.  The  lust 
that  uses  and  debases  the  organs  of  the  body  as  its  in- 
struments is  to  be  extirpated.  "  The  lust  of  the  flesh 
and  the  lust  of  the  eyes  and  the  pride  of  life,"  in  all 
their  varied  forms  and  fruits,  are  to  be  rooted  out  and 
abandoned.  ''  Let  not  sin  reign  in  your  mortal  body, 
that  ye  should  obey  it  in  the  lusts  thereof.  Neither 
yield  ye  your  members  as  instruments  of  unrighteous- 
ness unto  sin  :  but  yield  yourselves  unto  God,  as  those 
that  are  alive  from  the  dead,  and  your  members  as 
instruments  of  righteousness  unto  God."-)- 

*  See  Dr.  Eadie's  Commentary  on  Colossians:  chap,  ii,  20 — 23. 
t  Romans  vi.  12, 13. 


202  CONFLICT    WITH    SIN. 

In  some  well-known  instances,  Colonel  (tARDINEr's 
for  example,  this  '•'  death  unto  sin''  in  its  grosser  forms 
has  been  eflFected  with  a  suddenness  which  nothing 
can  explain  but  the  power  of  divine  grace.  Living  for 
many  years  in  a  perpetual  round  of  sensualities,  he 
used  to  say  that  Omnipotence  itself  could  not  reform 
him  without  giving  him  another  body.  But  from  the 
hour  of  his  conversion  "  all  desire  and  inclination"  to 
the  evils  he  had  so  long  practised  were  as  entirely 
removed  as  if  he  were  an  infant.  With  his  old  body 
he  lived  a  new  life,  loathing  those  things  which  had 
been  his  heaven  before,  and  not  only  practising  virtue, 
but  by  his  holiness  and  devoutness  adorning  the 
doctrine  of  his  Saviour.  This  ^'  death  unto  sin,'' 
even  in  its  grosser  forms,  often  involves  however  a 
protracted  struggle  and  many  failures.  Instructive 
instances  of  this  struggle  in  humble  life  will  be  found 
in  the  pages  of  "  English  Hearts  and  English  Hands" 
— instances  which  illustrate  very  strikingly  the  diffi- 
culties of '^  holy  living"  in  large  classes  of  the  community. 

The  conflicts  of  good  men  with  inward  sins,  and 
with  sins  whose  outward  "  manifestations  of  an  un- 
Christ  like  spirit"  are  scarcely  noticed  amidst  the 
glaring  violations  of  Christian  law  which  prevail  in 
the  world,  are  often  the  occasion  of  as  much  mental 
suffering  as  the  conflicts  of  others  with  ''  the  lusts  of 
the  flesh."  At  the  commencement  of  his  ministerial 
life  we  find  Dr.  Payson  often  "  dis- 

Edward  Payson  ; 

Bh.i^el'^^isi'^^ed  couraged  by  the  little  which  he  accom- 
^^^^'  plishes,  and  the  selfish  motives  with 

which  that  little  is  defiled."  He  is  assailed  by  "  strong 
temptations,  which  drive  him  to  his  knees  for  assist- 
ance ;"   and   by    '^  frequent   recurrence    of  the   same 


DR.  payson's  warfare.  203 

temptation,  which  costs  him  long  and  severe  "  struggles 
before  he  is  favoured  with  complete  victory."  This  is 
followed  by  "  increased  confidence  in  God,  as  able  to 
supply  all  his  need,  and,  at  the  same  time,  with  a  more 
humbling  sense  of  his   unfitness    for    the    ministry." 

And,  even  when  he  is  in  a  '*  lively  frame"  during 
several  successive  days,  he  is  still  ''  astonished  at  his 
slow  progress  in  religion.''  Again,  "  pride  and  unbe- 
lief begin  to  work,  and  render  him  miserable,"  and  for 
defence  against  them  he  resorts  "  to  prayer,  pleading 
various  arguments  for  the  space  of  an  hour,  before  he 
is  able  to  repress  pride  and  repining  thoughts."  Nor 
is  this  the  extremity  of  his  conflict :  he  has  such  "  a 
dreadful  view  of  his  heart,  that  he  could  scarcely  sup- 
port the  sight  of  himself;"  while  this,  "instead  of 
humbling,  only  distressed  him  ;  so  that  he  is  at  last 
obliged  to  desist,  without,  as  he  can  perceive,  any 
answer  at  all."  The  next  day  he  can  cry,  "Abba, 
Father,"  with  all  the  confidence  of  filial  love. 

After  years  of  experience  and  usefulness.  Dr.  Pay- 
son  wrote  these  words  : — "As  you  suspect,  popularity 
costs  me  dear ;  and  did  it  not  afford  me  the  means  of 
being  more  extensively  useful,  I  should  heartily  pray 
to  be  delivered  from  it,  as  the  greatest  of  all  curses. 
Since  the  novelty  has  worn  ofi",  it  affords  me  no  plea- 
sure; and  yet  I  am  continually  wishing  for  more,  though 
it  feeds  nothing  but  pride.  If  we  had  no  pride,  I  be- 
lieve applause  would  give  us  no  pleasure.  But  no  one 
can  conceive  how  dearly  it  is  purchased  ;  what  unspeak- 
ably dreadful  temptations,  buff'eti.ngs,  and  workings  of 
depravity  are  necessary  to  counteract  the  pernicious 
effects  of  this  poison.  It  is,  indeed,  the  first  and  last 
prayer  which  I  wish  my  friends  to  offer  up  for  me, 
that  I  may  be  kept  humble  ;  and  if  your  too  great  and 


204  CONFLICT   WITH   SIN. 

undeserved  aiFeetion  for  me  will  exert  itself  in  this 
way — that  is,  in  praying  for  me — it  may  preserve  your 
gourd  from  the  blast  and  the  worm/' 

The  experience  of  other  eminent  servants  of  Christ 
has  been  of  the  same  character.  "A  detestable  vanity 
for  the  reputation  of  a  'good  preacher'  (as  the  world 
terms  it)  has  already  cost  me  many  conflicts,"  said 
Samuel  Pearce.  "  Daily  I  feel  convinced  of  the 
propriety  of  a  remark  which  my  friend  Summers  made 
on  his  journey  to  Wales,  that  *It  is  easier  for  a  Chris- 
tian to  walk  habitually  near  to  God,  than  to  be  irre- 
gular in  our  walk  with  him.'  But  I  want  resolution  ; 
I  want  a  contempt  for  the  world ;  I  want  more  heavenly- 
mindedness;  I  want  more  humility;  I  want  much, 
very  much  of  that  which  God  alone  can  bestow.  Lord, 
help  the  weakest  lamb  in  all  thy  flock." 

The  Rev.  Charles  Simeon  was  conscious  of  his 
danger  from  the  same  source.  Writing  to  a  friend  in 
1817,  with  reference  to  malignant  attempts  which  had 
been  made  to  injure  his  character,  he  said,  "■  If  I  were 
to  attempt  to  assign  a  cause  for  these  untoward  cir- 
cumstances having  been  permitted,  I  should  think  it 
was  partly  in  mercy,  to  add  ballast  to  my  slender  bark, 
and  partly  in  judgment  to  counteract  and  punish  an 
undue  measure  of  complacency,  which  I  may  have  felt 
in  my  growing  popularity.  I  certainly  have  seen,  for 
a  long  time  back,  the  almost  invariable  kindness  and 
respect  with  which  I  have  been  treated  by  all  orders 
and  degrees  of  men  in  this  place  ;  and  it  is  possible 
that  God  may  have  seen  me  more  gratified  with  it  than 
I  ought  to  be." 

Such  entries  as  the   following   are   often   found  in 


DR.  CHALMERS   AND   SARAH    MARTIN.  205 

the  diary  of  Dr.  Chalmers  : — "  Sunday,  Dec.  8, 1811. 
Let  all  vanity,  0  my  God,  be  crucified  within  me. 
Let  my  sole  aim  be  to  win  souls;  and,  though  I  cannot 
at  all  times  command  a  clear  and  enraptured  view  of 
divine  truth,  let  me  fill  up  every  interval  with  works 
which  bespeak  the  Christian.  Bring  me  closer  and 
closer  to  Him  to  whom  thou  hast  given  all  power,  and 
committed  all  judgment.  Fill  me  with  his  fulness; 
and  may  I  have  peace  and  joy  with  thee  through  Jesus 
Christ  my  Lord.'^ — "  Dec.  10.  Let  me  be  peculiarly  on 
my  guard  against  all  selfisnness  and  love  of  display  ; 
and,  0  my  God,  let  me  not  satisfy  myself  with  choking 
up  the  streams  which  flov^  from  my  vitiated  heart. 
Apply  the  remedy  to  the  seat  and  centre  of  the 
disease.  Eenew  this  heart;  sanctify  it  by  the  faith 
that  is  in  Jesus,  and  form  it  to  thyself  in  righteous- 
ness and  all  in  holiness." — "  Dec.  17.  Let  me  give 
more  earnestness  and  application  to  the  secret  disci- 
pline of  the  inner  man  ;  and,  0  God,  assist  me  in  Christ 
to  regulate  my  thoughts,  and  to  go  on  joyfully,  without 
perplexity,  harassment,  or  fatigue." 

Sarah  Martin,  in  the  midst  of  her  Christlike  efi"orts 
for  the  salvation  of  the  inmates  of  Yarmouth  prison, 
refers  to  some  occurrence  in  her  prison  experience  in 
these  words  of  self-reproach  and  penitence  :  "  Thou, 
0  Lord,  seest  the  prayer  of  my  heart  respecting  the 
circumstances  of  this  day  :  oh  !  blot  out  my  sins  of 
temper,  of  unkindness,  of  ingratitude,  of  impatience. 
Oh  !  forgive,  forgive,  I  beseech  thee.  The  foe  is 
powerful ;  my  corrupt  nature  is  on  the  side  of  the 
enemy.  Oh  that  I  had  returned  good  for  evil,  and 
love  and  gratitude  for  good  !  Forbid,  I  pray  thee, 
any  evil  to  others  from  what  I  have  said  ;  for  when  I 
reproved  the  sinner,  I  did  it  not  in  love,  but  in  the 

18 


206  CONFLICT    WITH    SIN. 

feeling  of  human  vexation  and  of  human  an^er.  I  did 
not  love  the  sinner,  but  felt  great  dislike,  yea,  aversion 
to  him.  Have  pity  on  the  lost  and  guilty  one  :  teac4i 
him  to  pray,  and  whilst  I  try  thine  infinite  forbeafance 
as  I  do,  give  me  the  grace  of  patience  and  forbearlfoce 
to  others,  I  beseech  thee,  most  gracious  God,  Father, 
Son,  and  Spirit.'' 

John  Bunyan,  in  the  end  of  his  "  Grace  Abound- 
ing to  the  Chief  of  Sinners,"  says,  "I  find  to  this  day 
seven  abominations  in  my  heart :  (1.)  Inclination  to 
unbelief.  (  2.)  Suddenly  to  forget  the  love  and  mercy 
that  Christ  manifesteth.  (3.)  A  leaning  to  the  works 
of  the  law,  (4.)  Wanderings  and  coldness  in  prayer. 
(5.)  To  forget  to  watch  for  that  I  pray  for.  (6.)  Apt 
to  murmur  because  I  have  no  more,  and  yet  ready  to 
abuse  what  I  have.  (7.)  I  can  do  none  of  those  things 
which  God  commands  me,  but  my  corruptions  will 
thrust  in  themselves  :  when  I  would  do  good,  evil  is 
present  with  me."  ^'  These  things,"  he  adds,  "  I  con- 
tinually see  and  feel,  and  am  afflicted  and  oppressed 
with  •  yet  the  wisdom  of  God  doth  order  them  for  my 
good.  (1.)  They  make  me  abhor  myself.  (2.)  They 
keep  me  from  trusting  my  heart.  (3.)  They  convince 
me  of  the  insufficiency  of  all  inherent  righteousness. 
(4.)  They  show  me  the  necessity  of  flying  to  Jesus. 
(5.)  They  press  me  to  pray  unto  God.  (6.)  They 
show  me  the  need  I  have  to  watch  and  be  sober. 
(7.)  And  provoke  me  to  pray  unto  God,  through 
Christ,  to  help  me,  and  carry  me  through  this  world." 

"  0  wretched  man  that  I  am  !  who  shall  deliver 
me  from  this  body  of  death  ?"  is  the  anxious  inquiry 
of  every  man  who,  like  these  worthies,  and  like  Paul, 
has  discovered  the  extent  of  sin  in  his  heart.     "  So 


"  0    WRETCHED    MAN  V  207 

bound  and  liampered  by  the  power  of  sin,  I  cry  for  a 
mighty  deliverer  to  rid  me  of  the  intolerable  burden, 
this  sinful  and  degenerate  nature,  which  disturbs  my 
peace,  sullies  the  purity  of  my  renewed  mind,  and  aims 
at  nothing  short  of  my  spiritual  and  eternal  death." 
''  I  thank  God,'^ — the  apostle  answered  his  own 
question,  and  with  a  divine  guidance  which  makes  the 
answer  the  only  true  one  for  others  as  well  as  for 
him, — "  I  thank  God  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord." 
"  He,  who  has  begun  to  deliver  me,  will,  in  due  time, 
complete  the  deliverance  through  Jesus  Christ  our 
Loi'd."  The  answer  is  comprehensive.  Deliverance 
from  sin  will  be  eflPected  by  the  gospel  and  the  grace 
of  Jesus  Christ — not  by  the  law  and  by  the  strength 
of  my  own  will. 

"  Sin  shall  not  have  dominion  over  you,"  he  had 
said,  a  few  sentences  before,  "  because  ye  are  not 
under  the  law,  but  under  grace."*  "  Conscious,"  says 
Doddridge  in  his  paraphrase  of  the  passage,  "  of  the 
obligations  you  lie  under  to  Him  who  hath  raised  you 
to  this  new  and  glorious  life,  present  all  your  members 
and  powers  to  God  as  weapons  and  instruments  of 
righteousness  to  fight  his  battles,  and  be  for  ever 
devoted  to  his  service.  Do  it  boldly  and  resolutely, 
and  not  as  if  you  feared  that  your  former  master 
should  recover  his  power  and  prove  a  severer  tyrant, 
after  you  had  thus  attempted  to  revolt ;  for  you  may, 
on  the  contrary,  be  assured  that  sin  shall  not  have  any 
more  dominion  over  you,  as  you  are  not  under  the  law, 
a  dispensation  of  bondage  and  terror,  but  under  grace, 
under  the  merciful  dispensation  of  the  gospel,  which 
affords  such  consolations,  and  inspires  such  hopes,  as 
may  animate    the   soul    to   a   much    more   successful 

*  Romans  vi.  14. 


208  CONFLICT    WITH    SIN. 

combat  with  sin  than  the  law  could  do,  and  give  a 
much  nobler  assurance  of  a  complete  victory  over 
it."  Instead  of  sinning  as  we  please,  "  because  under 
grace,"  the  "  grace"  of  the  gospel  is  our  only  hope  of 
deliverance  from  sin  ;  it  provides  the  only  motives  that 
are  adequate  to  the  occasion,  and  opens  a  channel  for 
the  communication  of  the  only^^ozi-er  that  can  render 
these  motives  effectual.  The  law,  though  a  perfect 
rule  of  life  to  those  who  have  a  mind  to  obey  it,  does 
not  contain,  as  we  have  seen  in  an  earlier  part  of  this 
volume,  the  means  of  subduing  and  winning  the  rebel 
heart  to  God.  It  is  the  opening  of  the  door  of  mercy 
by  the  gospel,  and  the  exhibition  of  the  love  of  God  to 
sinners  in  the  opening  of  this  door,  that  can  do  this. 
The  law  provides  no  medium  through  which  the  Holy 
Spirit  may  be  given  for  the  renewing  and  purifying  of 
human  character,  but  the  gospel  does.  And  thus 
"  grace"  secures  that  "  sin  shall  not  have  dominion" 
over  those  who  believe  in  the  Mediator,  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ. 

In  his  daily  warfare  with  sin,  the  Christian  must 
make  daily  use  of  these  principles.  They  are  needful 
not  only  to  the  first  breaking  of  the  power  of  sin,  but 
to  the  continuous  warfare  with  its  influences.  We 
must  look  daily  for  pardon  through  the  blood  of 
Christ.  We  must  cherish  towards  Christ  daily  that 
same  grateful  love  which  was  awakened  when  first  we 
received  his  mercy.  We  must  daily  ask  and  put  our 
trust  in  that  Holy  Spirit,  who  is  the  source  of  all 
spiritual  power  and  purity.  Let  any  burden  of  guilt 
rest  on  our  consciences,  or  let  any  spirit  of  self-con- 
fidence take  possession  of  our  hearts,  and  either  will 
be  fatal  to  success  in  our  battles  with  sin.  But  if  we 
habituate  ourselves  to  apply  to   the   Saviour,  in  the 


DAILY    HEALING.  209 

spirit  of  children,  for  the  pardon  of  every  known  sin 
and  for  the  hourly  supply  of  divine  strength,  we  shall 
be  more  than  conquerors.  When  "  Christian's'^  con- 
flict* with  ApoUyon  in  the  A^alley  of  Humiliation  was 
over — a  conflict  in  which  he  received  not  a  few 
wounds — "  there  came  to  him  a  hand,^'  says  John 
Bunyan,  '^  with  some  of  the  leaves  of  the  '  tree  of 
life,^  the  which  Christian  took  and  applied  to  the 
wounds  that  he  had  received  in  the  battle,  and  was 
healed  immediately.  He  also  sat  down  in  that  place 
to  eat  bread,  and  to  drink  of  that  bottle  that  was 
given  him  a  little  before  :  so  being  refreshed,  he  ad- 
dressed himself  to  his  journey  with  his  sword  drawn 
in  his  hand ;  for  he  said,  '  I  know  not  but  some  other 
enemy  may  be  at  hand.' " 

John  Newton  has  taught  us  the  same  lesson  in  a 
form  which  is  not  the  less  efi'ective  that  it  is  homely. 
The  spider  and  the  toad  engage  in  deadly  conflict. 
Again  and  again  is  the  toad  wounded,  but  "  by  ready 
instinct  taught,'^  seeks  the  antidote  to  the  spider's 
poison  by  cropping  the  leaf  of  the  herb  plantain.  At 
length  the  spectator  of  the  contest  removed  the 
healing  plant,  and  when  the  wounded  toad  rushed  as 
before  to  seek  relief,  and  found  it  not,  it  swelled  and 
died.  "  The  toad's  an  emblem,  of  my  heart,"  says  Mr. 
Newton,  *'  and  Satan  acts  the  spider's  part.'' 

"  Envenomed  by  his  poison,  I 
Am  often  at  the  point  to  die; 
But  He  who  hung  upon  the  tree, 
From  guilt  and  woe  to  set  me  free, 
Is  like  the  plantjiin  leaf  to  me. 
To  him  my  wounded  soul  repairs: 
lie  knows  my  pain,  and  hears  my  prayers: 
From  him  I  virtue  draw  by  fiiith, 
Which  saves  me  from  the  jaws  of  death  ; 
From  him  fresh  life  and  strength  I  gain, 
And  Satan  spends  his  rage  in  vaiu. 
18* 


210  CONFLICT    WITH    SIN, 

No  secret  arts,  or  open  force, 
Can  rob  me  of  this  sure  resource. 
Though  banished  to  some  dist<ant  land, 
My  medicine  would  be  still  at  hand : 
Though  foolish  men  its  worth  deny, 
Experience  gives  them  all  the  lie. 
Christ's  blood  a  sovereign  balm  is  found 
For  every  grief  and  evei-y  wound  ; 
And  sooner  all  the  hills  shall  flee 
And  hide  themselves  beneath  the  sea. 
The  sun,  exhausted  of  its  light, 
Become  the  source  of  endless  night, 
And  ruin  spread  from  pole  to  pole, 
Than  Jesus  fail  the  tempted  soul.'' 


There  are  some  principles  which,  as  compared  with 
these,  may  be  called  subordinate,  but  which  are  still 
of  great  importance  in  the  warfare  with  sin.  First  of 
all  is  the  importance  of  cultivating  the  positive  virtues 
and  graces  of  the  Christian  character  as  a  preventive 
and  counteractive  to  sin.  And  how  this  is  to  be  done 
we  have  already  seen.  There  are  many  diseases  which 
are  to  be  cured  not  by  local  applications  or  specific 
remedies,  but  by  the  general  improvement  of  the 
health  and  the  invigoration  of  the  constitution.  And 
the  rule  applies  to  the  soul  as  well  as  to  the  body. 
The  conscientious,  devout,  and  earnest  cultivation  of 
the  spirit  of  humble  piety,  and  of  its  practical  fruits, 
will  throw  off  many  spiritual  ailments,  and  without  it 
specific  remedies  will  be  in  vain. 

The  Christian's  character,  and  consequently  his 
power  to  resist  sin,  is  greatly  strengthened  by  the 
exercise  of  self-denial ;  not  such  self-denial  as  has  been 
practised  by  many,  for  its  own  sake,  or  for  the  sake  of 
the  painfulness  which  it  involves,  but  such  as  our 
Lord  has  enjoined  in  the  solemn  words,  "  If  any  man 
will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take  up 
his  cross  daily,  and  follow  me.     For  whosoever  will  save 


SELF-DENIAL    STRENGTHENS.  211 

his  life  shall  lose  it :  but  whosoever  will  lose  his  life 
for  ray  sake,  the  same  shall  save  it."*  There  is  no  virtue 
in  doing  what  is  disagreeable,  as  we  have  seen  Madame 
Guyon  thought  in  her  earlier  religious  life.  "  This 
is  Buddhism,  but  it  is  not  Christianity.  Christianity 
says  to  us,  Suffer,  labour,  endure  up  to  martyrdom; 
when  duty  calls  you;  but  do  not  fancy  that  there  is 
anything  noble  in  throwing  yourself  in  martyrdom's 
way.  '  Thou  slialt  not  tempt  the  Lord  thy  God.'  '' 
x\nd  the  same  principle  applies  to  a  thousand  things 
which  do  not  approach  martyrdom.  There  is  nothing 
Christian  in  denying  yourself  the  temperate  use  of 
pleasant  and  nutritious  food  which  Providence  places 
on  your  own  table,  and  then  going  out,  as  Loyola  did, 
to  beg  a  morsel  of  bread  from  door  to  door;  but  it  is 
a  Christian  duty  to  avoid  luxury  and  waste,  that  you 
may  deal  your  bread  to  the  hungry.  There  is  nothing 
Christian  in  abandoning  your  comfortable  hearth  to 
stand  barefoot  and  ill-clad  amid  the  snow  and  storm 
of  a  winter's  night;  but  if  a  neighbour's  wants  are 
to  be  relieved,  or  a  neighbour's  sorrows  require  sym- 
pathy, snow  and  storm  should  be  encountered,  and  the 
comforts  of  your  blazing  fireside  relinquished.  There  is 
nothing  Christian  in  forsaking  home  and  living  among 
savages,  that  there  you  may  have  the  perpetual  com- 
panionship of  pain  and  suffering  ;  but  if  you  forego  the 
enjoyments  of  civilized  society  to  teach  savages  the  way 
of  return  to  God,  the  pain  and  suffering  of  constant 
intercourse  with  them  will  be  true  Christian  self-denial. 
There  is  nothing  Christian  in  rushing  into  the  arms 
of  death  for  the  mere  sake  of  what  is  abhorrent  to 
our  sensitive  nature;  but  if  we  "  give  our  body  to  be 
burned/'  rather  than    deny    our   Lord   or   his  truth, 

*Lakeix.  23,  24. 


212  CONFLICT    WITH    SIN. 

we  obey  his  will,  and  render  to  him  a  pleasing 
sacrifice. 

Self-denial  that  is  gratuitous  and  objectless  is  sheer 
folly.  To  be  a  Christian  and  acceptable  to  Christ,  it 
must  have  a  practical  end,  such  an  end  as  his  word 
approves  ;  and  the  exercise  of  such  self-denial  is  very 
strengthening  to  the  Christian  character.  Every  in- 
stance in  which  a  man  denies  himself  an  unlcvwful  gra- 
tification, which  has  solicited  his  indulgence,  prepares 
him  for  an  easier  conquest  of  sin  when  next  the  same 
temptation  returns.  And  every  instance  in  which  a 
man  denies  himself  that  which  is  lawful,  "  not  confer- 
ring with  flesh  and  blood,''  for  the  sake  of  a  higher 
good,  whether  his  own  or  another's,  strengthens  the 
higher  principles  of  his  renewed  nature,  and  assimi- 
lates him  to  Christ,  who  habitually  pleased  not  himself, 
and  even  died  for  the  redemption  of  mankind. 

Apart  from  Christian  principle  and  the  exercise  of 
the  Christian  graces,  it  is  found  that  resolute  effort 
and  self-denial  are  morally  strengthening.  Sir  Andrew 
Agnew  spent  his  boyhood  in  the  residence  of  his 
maternal  grandfather,  the  premier  baron  of  Ireland; 
and  his  imagination  had  long  pictured  his  Scottish 
inheritance  as  a  scene  of  beauty.  But  when,  at  the 
age  of  sixteen,  on  the  death  of  his  paternal  grand- 
father, he  went  to  take  possession,  he  found  it  a 
wilderness  ;  and  ^'  his  spirit  died  within  him."  The 
old  castle  of  Lochnaw  looked  grim  and  repulsive  ;  the 
grounds  around  had  long  been  neglected  ;  plantations, 
undisturbed  for  years,  formed  a  barricade  through 
which  it  was  difficult  to  penetrate;  a  once  ornamental 
lake  was  now  only  a  morass  ;  the  neighbourhood  was 
remote  and  lonely,  and  roads  had  scarcely  an  exist- 
ence.    Should  he  remain  and  attempt  to  reclaim  the 


"walk  in  the  spirit."  213 

wilderness,  or  retire  and  live  on  its  produce  in  some 
more  favoured  spot?  The  question  was  long  and 
earnestly  pondered;  and  his  final  decision  was  in 
favour  of  the  nobler  and  more  difficult  alternative. 
The  result,  as  it  respects  his  property,  is  soon  told. 
He  lived  to  see  his  domain  growing  into  a  little 
earthly  paradise.  But  who  can  tell  the  eflfect  of  that 
decision  on  the  development  or  formation  of  his  own 
character  ?  With  a  nature  of  almost  fieminine  softness, 
and  nurtured  in  circumstances  which  did  not  counter- 
act but  confirm  its  weaker  tendencies,  had  he  chosen 
the  easier  course,  the  choice  would  have  strengthened 
the  spirit  of  self-indulgence,  and  weakened  those  latent 
energies  which  had  yet  given  no  sign  of  their  exist- 
ence. The  task  to  which  he  gave  himself,  involving 
daily  self-denial  and  efi'ort,  contributed  much  to  the 
formation  of  that  character  which  shone  so  brightly 
when  hallowed  by  Christian  principle,  and  whose  firm- 
ness and  decision  were  severely  tested  by  the  labours 
and  conflicts  of  his  later  life. 

"  This  I  say  then.  Walk  in  the  Spirit,  and  ye  shall 
not  fulfil  the*^  lust  of  the  flesh."*  "  Put  ye  on  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  make  not  provision  for  the 
flesh,  to  fulfil  the  lusts  thereof  "f  "  Within  the  last 
two  years,"  wrote  the  Rev.  Andrew  Fuller,  "  I  have 
experienced,  perhaps,  as  much  peace  and  calmness  of 
mind  as  at  any  former  period.  I  have  been  enabled 
to  walk  somewhat  nearer  to  God  than  heretofore;  and 
I  find  that  there  is  nothing  which  afi'ords  such  a 
preservative  against  sin.  '■  If  we  walk  in  the  Spirit, 
we  shall  not  fulfil  the  lusts  of  the  flesh.'  This  passage 
has  been  of  great  use  to  me  ever  since  I  preached 
from   it,  which  was  on  June  3,   1792.     The  idea  on 

*  Qalatians  v.  16.  t  Romans  xiii.  14, 


214  CONFLICT    WITH    SIN. 

which  I  then  principally  insisted  was,  that  sin  is  to  be 
overcome,  not  so  much  by  a  direct  or  mere  resistance 
to  it,  as  by  opposing  other  principles  and  considera- 
tions to  it.  This  sentiment  has  been  abundantly 
verified  in  my  experience  :  so  far  as  I  have  walked  in 
the  Spirit,  so  far  has  my  life  been  holy  and  happy;  and 
I  have  experienced  a  good  degree  of  these  blessings 
compared  with  former  times,  though  but  a  very  small 
degree  compared  with  what  I  ought  to  aspire  after." 

"  It  is  seldom,"  says  Dr.  Chalmers,  ''  that  any  of  our 
tastes  are  made  to  disappear  by  a  mere  process  of 
natural  extinction.  But  what  cannot  be  thus  de- 
stroyed may  be  dispossessed  ;  and  one  taste  may  be 
made  to  give  way  to  another,  and  to  lose  its  power 
entirely  as  the  reigning  affection  of  the  mind.  It  is 
thus  that  the  boy  ceases,  at  length,  to  be  the  slave  of 
his  appetite  ;  but  it  is  because  a  manlier  taste  has  now 
brought  it  into  subordination :  and  that  the  youth 
ceases  to  idolize  pleasure  ;  but  it  is  because  the  idol 
of  wealth  has  become  the  stronger,  and  gotten  the 
ascendency  :  and  that  even  the  love  of  money  ceases 
to  have  the  mastery  over  the  heart  of  many  a  thriving 
citizen;  but  it  is  because,  drawn  into  the  whirl  of  city 
politics,  another  affection  has  been  wrought  into  his 
moral  system,  and  he  is   now  lorded  over  by  the  love 

of  power Nothing  can  exceed  the   magnitude 

of  the  required  change  in  a  man's  character,  when 
bidden,  as  he  is  in  the  New  Testament,  to  love  not  the 
world;  no,  nor  any  of  the  things  that  are  in  the  world. 
But  the  same  revelation  which  dictates  so  mighty  an 
obedience  places  within  our  reach  as  mighty  an  instru- 
ment of  obedience.  It  brings  for  admittance  to  the 
very  door  of  our  heart  an  affection  which,  once  seated 
upon  its  throne,  will  either  subordinate  every  previous 


THE    HOUSE    SWEPT   AND   EMPTY.  215 

inmate,  or  bid  it  away.  Beside  the  world,  it  places 
before  the  eye  of  the  mind  Him  who  made  the 
world  ;  and  with  this  peculiarity,  which  is  all  its  own, 
that  in   the  gospel  do  we  so   behold   God,  as   that  we 

may  love  God The  object  of  the  gospel  is  both 

to  pacify  the  sinner's  conscience,  and  to  purify  his 
heart;  and  it  is  of  importance  to  observe,  that  what 
mars  the  one  of  these  objects  mars  the  other  also. 
The  best  way  of  casting  out  an  impure  affection  is  to 
admit  a  pure  one  ;  and  by  the  love  of  what  is  good,  to 
expel  the  love  of  what  is  evil."* 

It  is  another  aspect  of  the  same  principle  we  have 
in  the  proverb,  ''  The  house  that  is  unoccupied,  the 
devil  finds  a  tenant  for  •/'  and  in  Dr.  AV^atts's  well- 
known  words  : — 

"  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still 
For  idle  hands  to  do." 

The  same  lesson  is  taught  in  one  of  our  Lord's 
parables  :  "  When  the  unclean  spirit  is  gone  out  of  a 
man,  he  walketh  through  dry  places,  seeking  rest,  and 
findeth  none.  Then  he  saith,  I  will  return  into  my 
house  from  whence  I  came  out;  and  when  he  is  come, 
he  findeth  it  empty,  swept,  and  garnished.  Then 
goeth  he,  and  taketh  with  himself  seven  other  spirits 
more  wicked  than  himself,  and  they  enter  in  and 
dwell  there  :  and  the  last  state  of  that  man  is  worse 
than  the  first.  Even  so  shall  it  be  also  unto  this 
wicked  generation. "f  ''To  me,^'  says  a  commentator 
on  this  passage,  "  it  seems  probable  that  the  Lord 
alluded  to  the  great  regeneration  of  the  people  which 
had  taken  place  through  the  Babylonian  captivity. 
During  all  their  earlier  history,  the  people  might  be 

*  Sermon  on  "The  Expulsive  Power  of  a  New  Affection." 
t  Matthew  xii.  43—15. 


216  CONFLICT   WITH    SIN. 

said  to  be  possessed  by  aa  unclean  spirit — the  spirit 
of  idolatry  :  nothing  seemed  to  have  the  power  of 
teaching  them  the  value  of  the  true  worship  which 
they  enjoyed,  until  at  length  the  spirit  was  effectually 
exorcised  by  the  captivity  in  Babylon.  After  the 
return,  we  hear  of  it  no  more ;  the  love  of  idols  was 
replaced  by  a  detestation  of  idolatry,  complete  and 
cordial.  Here,  then,  was  t\e  case  of  the  empty 
house — the  spirit  expelled ;  but  the  misfortune  was, 
that  the  house  remained  empty.  No  spirit  purer  and 
better  took  possession  of  it :  it  was  a  merely  negative 
religious  state  ;  and  the  consequence  was  that  a  new 
entrance  was  afforded  for  the  dffvil.  He  came  in  the 
shape  of  formalism  and  outward  ceremonial  religion, 
and  made  the  condition  of  those  who  admitted  him 
into  their  hearts  seven  times  worse  than  before — 
more  hopeless  than  if  given  up  to  idols/^  Whether 
this  reference  to  the  captivity  was  intended  by  our 
Lord,  or  not,  it  illustrates  the  truth,  that  the  heart  of 
man  must  not  only  be  "  swept  and  garnished,"  but 
well  occupied,  if  it  is  to  be  preserved  free  from  the 
intrusion  of  evil  spirits. 

In  their  warfare  with  sin.  Christians  have  to  watch 
especially  against  what  are  called  hesetting  sins.  The 
strength  of  a  piece  of  mechanism  is  just  as  its 
strength  at  the  weakest  point.  The  Christian's  sta- 
bility will  be  as  his  strength  in  the  weakest  point  of 
his  character.  "  Satan  sorteth  every  spirit  with  a 
proper  bait,"  says  an  old  divine.  In  one  man  the 
peculiar  source  of  danger  may  be  pTide ;  in  another, 
vanity;  in  another,  worldliness;  in  another,  a  violent 
and  ungovernable  temper ;  in  another,  a  corrupt 
imagination  ;  in  another,  a  heavy,  leaden,  insensible 


BESETTING    SINS.  217 

heart;  in  another,  some  unholy  and  improper  attach- 
ment. The  sins  in  which  we  indulged  before  con- 
version, to  which  we  are  particularly  exposed  by  our 
natural  temperament  or  by  our  profession  or  situa- 
tion in  life,  must  be  guarded  against  with  double 
vigilance. 

"  Every  man  has  his  besetting  sin,"  we  have  heard 
said  with  some  complacence,  and  in  a  tone  of  apology, 
by  men  who  tried  to  disarm  their  apprehensions  and 
silence  their  fears  by  a  consideration  which  should 
rather  fill  them  with  dismay.  Their  idea  seems  to  have 
been  that  the  existence  of  a  besetting  sin  is  a  matter 
of  course,  on  which  God  looks  with  indulgence.  If 
other  sins  are  avoided,  the  besetting  sin  will  not  be 
treated  with  much  severity.  Only  let  a  man  be,  from 
constitution  or  from  circumstances,  inclined  to  a  par- 
ticular sin,  and  he  may  commit  that  sin  with  little 
fear.  The  easier  our  sins  are  to  throw  off,  the  more 
earnestly,  on  this  principle,  should  we  throw  them  off; 
but  the  more  they  cleave  to  us,  and  the  greater  the 
difficulty  of  resisting  them,  the  more  may  we  feel  our- 
selves at  ease  respecting  them. 

Such  views  have  only  to  be  stated  to  expose  the 
error  or  wickedness  that  lurks  in  them.  A  besetting 
sin  is  to  be  regarded  with  special  apprehension  and 
dread.  Our  walls  of  defence  may  be  exposed  to  but 
little  danger  except  at  one  point :  and  it  is  at  that 
point  our  vigilance  and  strength  should  be  concen- 
trated. Our  bodily  constitution  may  be  strong  in 
every  respect  but  one  ;  if  we  neglect  that  one  weak- 
ness, it  may  soon  bring  us  to  our  grave.  "  You  have 
seen  a  ship  swinging  with  the  tide,  and  seeming  as  if 
it  would  follow  it,  and  yet  it  cannot;  for  down  beneath 
the  water  it  is  anchored.  So  many  a  soul  sways 
19 


218'  CONFLICT   WITH    SIN. 

towards  heaven,  but  cannot  ascend  thither,  because  it 
is  anchored  to  some  secret  sin." 

The  biography  of  the  Rev.  Charles  Simeon  discloses 
to  us  instructively  some  of  his  conflicts  with  besetting 
sin.  "A  thousand  thanks  to  you,"  he  wrote  in  1788  to  a 
friend  who  had  warned  him  against  vanity,  "  for  many 
valuable  observations  in  your  last  letter ;  especially 
that  which  I  hope  to  remember — that  ministers,  when 
truly  useful,  and  more  perfectly  instructed  in  the 
ways  of  God,  are  '■  off  their  speed,'  and  not  so  full  of 
their  success.  Alas,  alas  !  how  apt  are  young  ministers 
(I  speak  feelingly)  to  be  talking  of  that  great  letter 
I.  It  would  be  easier  to  erase  that  letter  from  all  the 
books  in  the  kingdom,  than  to  hide  it  for  one  hour 
from  the  eyes  of  a  vain  person.  Another  observation, 
in  a  former  letter  of  yours,  has  not  escaped  my  remem- 
brance ;  the  three  lessons  which  a  minister  has  to 
learn — 1.  Humility — 2.  Humility — 3.  Humility. 
How  long  are  we  learning  the  true  nature  of  Chris- 
tianity !" 

"  Amongst  other  infirmities,"  says  his  biographer, 
"it  may  be  observed  that  Mr.  Simeon  was  much  tried 
at  times,  by  a  certain  irritability  of  temper,  which  was 
doubtless  not  a  little  aggravated  by  occasional  attacks 
of  the  gout.  No  one,  however,  could  be  more  sensible 
of  the  evil  than  he  was  himself;  and  never  was  any 
one  more  ready  to  confess  and  deplore  his  failings. 
Occasionally  these  outbreaks  would  almost  provoke  a 
smile,  from  the  nature  of  the  incidents  out  of  which 
they  arose."  To  a  friend  who  had  witnessed  one  of 
these  outbreaks,  and  had  admonished  him  in  a  gentle 
and  loving  letter,  he  wrote,  "  I  most  cordially  thank 
you,  my  dear  friend,  for  your  kind  and  seasonable 
reproof.     I  feel  it  to  be  both  just  and  necessary;  and 


"  OBSTA   PRINCIPIIS."  219 

will  endeavour,  with  God's  help,  to  make  a  suitable 
improvement  of  it.  I  trust  your  '■  precious  balm  will 
not  break  mj  head  j'  but  I  hope  it  will  soften  the 
spirit  of  your  much-indebted  friend."  And  in  a  second 
letter  he  said  :  "  You  have  no  occasion  to  think  of 
apologies ;  for  I  have  day  and  night  thanked  God  for 
you,  and  prayed  for  blessings  on  your  head,  and 
watched  and  prayed  against  my  besetting  sin,  or  rather 
against  one  out  of  a  thousand  of  my  besetting  sins.  I 
know  and  feel  that  I  am  extremely  blamable  on  the 
side  you  referred  to ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  my  wishes  and 
endeavours,  if  I  am  not  much  upon  my  guard,  I  fall 
again  and  again  into  the  same  sins.  I  hope,  my  dearest 
brother,  that  when  you  find  your  soul  nigh  to  God, 
you  will  remember  one  who  so  greatly  needs  all  the 
help  he  can  get." 

"  Kesist  the  first  advances,"*  said  an  old  Romaa 
poet :  "a  cure  is  attempted  too  late,"  he  added,  "  when, 
through  long  hesitation,  the  malady  has  waxed  strong." 
The  words  have  passed  into  a  proverb,  equally  good  in 
medicine  and  in  morals.  There  is  no  one  more  in- 
terested in  it  than  the  Christian.  "  Repel  the  begin- 
nings of  evil,"  should  be  a  first  rule  of  his  life — a  rule 
which  many  fables  illustrate,  and  many  facts  enforce. 
'^  The  trees  of  the  forest  held  a  solemn  parliament," 
says  an  old  divine,  Thomas  Adams,  '■'■  wherein  they 
consulted  of  the  numerous  wrongs  which  the  axe 
had  done  them  :  therefore  they  enacted  that  no  tree 
should  hereafter  lend  the  axe  wood  for  a  handle,  on 
pain  of  being  cut  down.  The  axe  travels  up  and  down 
the  forest,  begs  wood  of  the  cedar,  oak,  ash,  elm,  even 
to  the  poplar;  not  one  would  lend  him  a  chip.     At 

*  Obsta  priQcipiis. 


220  CONFLICT    WITH    SIN. 

last  he  desired  so  mucli  as  would  serve  him  to  cut 
dawn  the  briers  and  bushes,  alleging  that  those  shrubs 
did  suck  away  the  juice  of  the  ground,  hinder  the 
growth  and  obscure  the  glory  of  the  fair  and  goodly 
trees.  Hereon  they  were  content  to  afford  him  so 
much.  When  he  had  gotten  his  handle,  he  cut  down 
the  trees  too.  These  be  the  subtle  reaches  of  sin  : 
give  it  but  a  little  advantage  on  the  fair  promise  to 
remove  thy  troubles,  and  it  will  cut  down  thy  soul 
also.  Therefore  resist  beginnings  :  trust  it  not  in  the 
least.  Consider  a  sin  (as  indeed  it  is)  a  crucifying  of 
Christ :  wilt  thou  say,  I  may  crucify  Christ  a  little  ? 
I  may  scourge  his  flesh,  wound  his  side,  pierce  his 
heart  a  little  ?  What  man  loves  the  Lord  Jesus  who 
would  either  say  it,  or  do  it  ?  Consider  thy  falling 
into  sin  a  hurling  of  thyself  down  from  some  high 
pinnacle  :  wilt  thou  say,  I  may  break  my  neck  a  little 'r* 
Consider  it  a  casting  thyself  into  unquenchable  fire : 
wilt  thou  say,  I  may  burn  my  soul  and  body  a  little  ? 
As  suffering  we  think  the  least  misery  too  great,  so 
sinning  let  us  think  the  least  iniquity  too  great." 

Little  sins  are  ruin  whenever  they  are  indulged. 
He  who  is  false  to  present  duty,  be  it  great  or  small, 
"  breaks  a  thread  in  the  loom,  and  will  find  the  flaw 
when  he  may  have  forgotten  the  cause."  "  Men,  in 
their  property,  are  afraid  of  conflagrations  and  light- 
ning strokes ;  but  if  they  were  building  a  wharf  in 
Panama,  a  million  madrepores,  so  small,  that  only  the 
microscope  could  detect  them,  would  begin  to  bore 
the  piles,  down  under  the  water.  There  would  be 
neither  noise  nor  foam;  but  in  a  little  while,  if  a  child 
did  but  touch  the  post,  over  it  would  fall  as  if  a  saw 
had  cut  it  through.  Now  men  think,  with  regard  to 
their  conduct,  that,  if  they  were  to  lift  themselves  up 


LITTLE    SINS.  221 

gigantically  and  commit  some  crashing  sin,  they  would 
never  be  able  to  hold  up  their  heads  -,  but  they  will 
harbour  in  their  souls  little  sins,  which  are  piercing 
and  eating  them  away  to  inevitable  ruin/' 

"  The  mischiefs  which  befall  Christian  character,  and 
destroy  its  growth,  are  such  as  lie  in  the  ordinary 
duties  of  life.  Christians  do  not,  usually,  fall  back 
into  declension  or  disgraceful  apostasy  on  a  sudden, 
or  by  the  overcoming  power  of  great  and  strange 
temptations.  They  are  stolen  away  rather  by  little 
and  little,  and  almost  insensibly  to  themselves.  They 
commonly  fall  into  some  lightness  of  carriage;  some 
irritation  of  temper  in  their  family  or  business ;  some 
neglect  of  duty  to  children,  apprentices,  or  friends : 
some  artfulness;  some  fault  of  integrity  in  business. 
These  are  the  beginnings  of  evil.  At  length  they 
grow  a  little  more  remiss.  They  begin  to  slight  their 
secret  duties.  The  world  and  its  fashions  become 
more  powerful,  and  they  yield  a  little  further;  till  at 
length  they  are  utterly  fallen  from  the  spirit  and 
standard  of  Christians. 

Let  no  sin  be  accounted  small.  The  world  may 
speak  of  white  sins,  but  all  sins  are  black  or  crimson 
in  the  sight  of  God.  And  he  that  is  consciously  un- 
just in  the  least  will  soon  be  unjust  in  the  much.  The 
cloud  which  at  first  is  no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand 
will  soon  cover  the  heavens.  The  leprous  spot,  which 
is  at  first  so  small  that  it  requires  searching  out  to 
find  it,  will  soon  cover  the  whole  person.  Look  afc 
that  young  lady  who  is  standing  on  the  margin  of  a 
precipice  which  overhangs  the  Falls  of  Niagara.  She 
is  delighted  with  the  wonders  of  the  scene,  and 
ambitious  to  pluck  a  little  flower  from  a  cliff  where 
no  human  hand  has  before  ventured,  as  a  memorial  of 

19* 


222  CONFLICT    WITH    SIN. 

the  cataract  and  of  her  own  daring.  She  leans  over 
the  verge  and  catches  a  glimpse  of  the  surging  waters 
far  down  the  battlements  of  rocks,  while  fear  for  a 
moment  darkens  her  excited  mind.  But  there  hangs 
the  lovely  blossom  on  which  her  heart  is  fixed ;  and 
she  leans,  in  a  delirium  of  intense  desire  and  anticipa- 
tion, over  the  brink.  Her  arm  is  stretched  out  to  grasp 
the  beautiful  form  which  charms  her  fancy;  the  turf 
yields  to  the  pressure  of  her  light  feet,  and  with  a 
shriek  she  descends,  like  a  falling  star,  to  the  rocky 
shore,  and  is  borne  away  gasping  in  death. 

Many  good  men  in  their  warfare  with  sin  have  fre- 
quently betaken  themselves  to  fasting  with  prayer. 
During  a  period  of  afiQiction,  the  following  entry  occurs 
in  the  diary  of  the  Rev.  Charles  Simeon  : — "  Wednes- 
day, Feb.  25,  1807.  Fast  day. — I  wished  much  to 
keep  this  day  holy  to  the  Lord.  In  every  point  of 
view — as  laid  aside  from  work,  and,  suspended  as  it 
were  from  my  office,  it  became  me  to  humble  myself; 
and  I  was  entirely  at  liberty  to  detach  my  mind  from 
everything  that  was  foreign  to  that  duty.  I  have 
always  judged  it  inexpedient  for  a  minister  to  fast, 
because  he  is  thereby  in  danger  of  unfitting  himself 
for  his  work;  but  my  neglect  of  it  on  other  occasions 
laid  a  tenfold  obligation  on  me  to  consecrate  this  day 
to  God  in  fasting  as  well  as  prayer.  In  my  morning 
devotions  I  was  tolerably  comfortable,  but  not  able  to 
humble  myself  as  I  could  wish.  In  the  family  prayer 
my  spirit  was  much  enlarged,  and  a  blessing  seemed 
to  descend  on  all  of  us.  At  the  chapel  I  could  not 
get  my  soul  engaged  in  the  prayers  as  I  ought." 

Such  entries  as  the  following  occur  frequently  in 
the   diary  of  Dr.   Payson  :— « June   10,  1807.— The 


FASTING.  223 

family  being  mostly  absent  to-day,  I  resolved  to  spend 
it  in  fasting  and  prayer,  for  a  supply  of  ministerial 
gifts  and  Christian  graces;  especially  that  I  might  be 
made  an  able,  faithful,  and  successful  minister  of  the 
New  Testament.  Was  assisted,  both  last  night  and 
this  morning,  in  seeking  the  divine  presence  and 
blessing.  God  graciously  heard  and  answered  me.  I 
was  favoured  with  great  and  unusual  fervency  and  per- 
severance in  prayer;  was  enabled  to  confess  and  mourn 
over  my  sins,  and  to  mourn  because  I  could  not  mourn 
more;  and  was  assisted  in  renewing  covenant  with 
God,  and  in  giving  myself  up  to  be  his  for  ever.'^ 
"  June  25th. — Thinking  it  would  be  more  convenient 
to  keep  my  weekly  fast  on  this  day,  sought  the  divine 
presence  and  blessing.  Felt  some  warm  affections  to- 
wards my  Saviour  at  first,  but  afterwards  could  neither 
realize  my  wants,  nor  pray  to  have  them  removed. 
Continued  in  this  frame  till  towards  night,  and  was 
then  favoured  with  a  deep  sense  of  my  utter  vileness. 
Was  also  enabled  to  plead,  even  with  agony  of  soul, 
to  be  free^d  from  the  power  of  selfish  nature.  Could 
not  think  of  being  any  longer  subject  to  it." 

Such  services  as  these  are  in  harmony,  we  think, 
with  the  teaching  of  Christ  and  with  the  practices  of 
his  early  followers.  Our  Lord  condemned  not  fasting, 
but  the  motive  which  actuated  the  Pharisees,  and 
the  ostentation  of  religiousness  which  that  motive 
produced.  He  intimated,  at  the  same  time,  the  ap- 
proach of  days  when  his  disciples  should  have  occa- 
sion to  fast.*  And  those  days  came,  but  they  have 
not  yet  passed  away.  When  the  Jews  were  going  up 
to  battle  with  their  enemies,  they  fasted  and  prayed; 
and  when  the  fi«st  soldiers  of   the  cross  were  going 

*  Matthew  vs..  14—17. 


224  CONFLICT    WITH    SIN. 

forth  to  their  spiritual  warfare,  they  fasted  and  prayed 
likewise.*  In  both  cases  the  fasting  was  the  symbol 
of  deep  humility,  self-renunciation,  and  dependence  on 
God. 

The  fasts  of  Judaism  have  passed  away,  as  well 
as  its  feasts.  But  we  may  learn  much  from  a  careful 
examination  of  the  circumstances,  and  the  spirit  in 
which  they  were  observed.  Nowhere  in  the  Old 
Testament  do  we  find  a  word  to  countenance  the  idea 
that  there  is  any  virtue  in  self-inflicted  sufi'ering.  The 
spirit  of  asceticism  had  no  place  in  Old  Testament 
fasts.  Nor  do  we  find  anywhere  a  word  to  counte- 
nance the  idea  that  fasting  has  of  itself  any  purifying 
power.  But  fasting  is  a  natural  symbol  of  sorrow, 
and  was  practised  as  such  whether  the  sorrow  was 
that  of  repentance,  or  of  perplexity,  or  of  self-renun- 
ciation. When  saints  of  old  were  overwhelmed  with 
grief  of  any  kind,  they  expressed  their  feelings  by 
fasting  and  other  signs.  They  resorted  to  fasting 
when  they  were  in  difiiculty  and  were  perplexed  to 
know  what  they  ought  to  do,  and  would  express  their 
distress  and  their  renunciation  of  their  own  wisdom 
and  power ;  when  they  were  awakened  to  a  conscious- 
ness of  sin,  and  would  express  their  humiliation  and 
contrition.  And  there  is  an  obvious  analogy  be- 
tween the  sign  and  the  thing  signified.  Feasting  is 
not  a  more  natural  sign  of  joy  than  fasting  is  of 
sorrow. 

Some  have  erred  in  the  extent  to  which  they  have 
carried  the  practice.  This  seems  to  have  been  the 
case  with  Dr.  Payson.  AVhen  he  read  the  strong 
language  of  Paul,  "  Mortify  your  members  that  are 
upon    the    earth,"    and    contemplated    his    example, 

*  Acts  xiii.  3 ;  xiv.  23 


TASTING.  225 

"  I  keep  under  my  body,  and  bring  it  into  subjection," 
he  desired  above  all  things  to  be  such  another  cham- 
pion of  the  cross;  and  his  susceptible  and  ardent 
nature  seems  to  have  impelled  him,  especially  in 
youth,  to  courses  that  were  injurious  to  his  health. 
His  physical  conformation  was  delicate  and  sensitive, 
and  his  suflferings  from  this  source  were  aggravated  by 
imprudent  abstinence  from  food  and  protracted  mental 
eflForts.  If  "  he  who  ruleth  well  his  spirit  is  greater 
than  he  that  taketh  a  city,"  the  rigid  discipline 
and  government  to  which  Dr.  Payson  subjected  the 
passions  of  the  mind  and  the  appetites  of  the  body 
may  be  taken  as  proof  of  his  real  greatness.  But 
he  multiplied  his  seasons  of  fasting  to  a  degree  which 
the  human  system  could  not  long  have  sustained. 
This  error  he  saw  and  lamented  when  it  was  too  late. 
Of  the  propriety  of  fasting,  however,  he  never  enter- 
tained any  doubt,  and  to  the  period  of  his  last  illness 
he  practised  a  weekly  fast.  He  was  wont  likewise  to 
recommend  partial  fasting  to  his  friends  and  flock. 
He  would  have  them,  when  fasting  on  their  own  pri- 
vate account,  not  to  ''■  appear  unto  men  to  fast,"  but  to 
come  to  the  table  which  was  spread  for  their  families, 
with  a  cheerful  countenance,  and  partake  sparingly  of 
its  provisions. 

Bodily  indulgence  fosters  and  stimulates  sensual 
passions,  and  habitual  moderation  is  essential  to  their 
due  restraint.  But  fasting,  even  if  frequent,  has  no 
direct  power  to  subdue  or  extinguish  sensual  or  other 
evil  tendencies.  And  if  the  spiritual  benefit  which 
results  from  it  is  the  fruit  directly  of  the  spiritual 
duties  with  which  it  is  associated,  it  may  be  laid 
down  as  a  rule,  that  literal  fasting,  to  an  extent  which 
will  incapacitate  for  these  duties,  must  be  spiritually 


CONFLICT   WITH    SIN. 

injurious  rather  than  beneficial.  The  state  of  mind 
being  everything,  fasting,  being  only  a  symbol  of  that 
state,  and  an  indirect  means  of  promoting  it,  can  be 
practised  legitimately  and  spiritually  only  so  far  as 
it  leaves  the  physical  and  mental  power  to  engage  in 
these  duties  unimpaired.  On  the  general  subject 
no  rule  can  safely  be  laid  down.  It  is  certain  that 
the  most  eminent  saints  of  ancient  and  later 
times  have  devoted  frequent  seasons  to  fasting  and 
prayer  ^  and  the  practice  may  therefore  be  ranked 
among  tried  and  approved  means  of  growth  in 
grace. 

Those  who  are  strangers  to  the  Christian  warfare 
may  have  their  impression  of  the  gloominess  of 
religion  confirmed  by  these  views;  but  they  cannot 
deny  the  force  of  the  Saviour's  words  — "  If  thy 
right  hand  ofi'end  thee,  cut  it  off",  and  cast  it  from 
thee :  for  it  is  profitable  for  thee  that  one  of 
thy  members  should  perish,  and  not  that  thy  whole 
body  should  be  cast  into  hell."*  A  very  pleasant  thing 
it  is  to  sail  with  the  stream,  to  move  forward  gently 
on  the  bosom  of  the  tide  and  with  a  favouring  gale. 
There  is  a  feeling  of  luxury  in  it.  It  is  the  symbol  of 
majesty  and  peace,  and  one  would  be  slow  to  disturb 
the  joyous  consciousness  of  progress  and  safety  which 
is  felt  in  such  circumstances.  But,  after  all,  if  there 
be  a  sunken  rock  underneath  the  waters  over  which 
one's  friends  are  thus  gliding  so  smoothly  and  hope- 
fully, it  would  be  the  greatest  cruelty  to  conceal  the 
fact,  even  if  the  first-fruit  of  the  announcement  be 
a  storm  of  inward  agitation.  Now,  sin  is  that 
sunken  rock  in  the  sea  of  our  Christian  voyage ;  and, 

*  Matthew  t.  30. 


STRUGGLING   YET   CHEERFUL.  227 

if  we  make  no  account  of   its  existence,  our  voyage 
will  be  "  witli  much  damage  and  loss  of  life." 

"  Weep  not  for  broad  lands  lost; 
Weep  not  for  fair  hopes  cross'd 
Weep  not  when  limbs  wax  old; 
Weep  not  when  friends  grow  cold ; 
Weep  not  thiit  death  must  part 
•  Thine  and  the  best-loved  heart; 

Yet  weep,  weep  all  thou  can- 
Weep,  weep  because  thou  art 
A  sin-defiled  man." 

Nor  is  the  gloom  of  this  conflict  with  sin  all  that  it 
seems.  In  the  private  journals  of  good  men  (we 
make  general  a  remark  which  the  biographer  of  the 
Rev.  George  Wagner  makes  respecting  that  holy  man), 
the  reader  sees  little  of  the  happiness,  little  of  the 
cheerful  self-possession,  the  activity,  and  the  lightness 
of  a  purified  heart,  with  which  the  faithful  servant  of 
Christ  discharges  his  daily  duties,  and  mixes  bene- 
ficently with  his  fellow-men.  The  picture  is  darkened 
by  the  painful  struggles,  the  striving  after  attain- 
ments ever  rising  out  of  reach,  the  unreserved  self- 
condemnation,  the  piteous  self-abhorrence,  which  mark 
the  dealings  of  the  soul  with  its  God  in  the  midst  of 
temptation  and  spiritual  discipline ;  and  which  often 
deepen  in  intensity  of  expression  as  the  heart  is  purified 
more  and  more  from  "  the  corruptions  that  are  in  the 
world  through  lust." 

''  So  deep  are  my  views  of  my  corruption,"  said  the 
Rev.  Charles  Simeon,  '^  that  I  scarcely  ever  join  in  the 
confession  of  our  church  without  perceiving,  almost 
as  with  my  bodily  organs,  my  soul  as  a  dead  putrefied 
carcass;*  and  I  join  in  that  acknowledgment,  'There 
is  no  health  in  us,'  in  a  way  that  none  but  God  himself 
can  conceive.     No  language  that  I  could  use  could  at 

*  Isaiah  i.  6. 


228  CONFLICT   WITH   SIN. 

all  express  the  goings  forth  of  my  soul  with  those 
words  or  the  privilege  I  feel  in  being  permitted  to 
address  the  God  of  heaven  and  earth  in  these  words, 
^  Almighty  and  most  merciful  Father.'  Hence,  then, 
my  sighs  and  groans  when  in  secret." 

But  these  "sighs  and  groans''  were  not  wrung 
from  a  miserable  and  slavish  spirit.  "  It  is  nt)w  a 
little  above  forty  years  since  I  began  to  seek  after 
God ;  and  within  about  three  months  of  that  time, 
after  much  humiliation  and  prayer,  I  found  peace 
through  that  Lamb  of  God  who  taketh  away  the  sins 
of  the  world.  From  that  time  to  the  present  hour,  I 
have  never  for  a  moment  lost  my  hope  and  confidence 
in  my  adorable  Saviour.  For  though,  alas  !  I  have 
had  deep  and  abundant  cause  for  humiliation,  I  have 
never  ceased  to  wash  in  that  fountain  that  was  opened 
for  sin  and  uncleanness,  or  to  cast  myself  upon  the 
tender  mercy  of  my  reconciled  God. 

"  With  this  sweet  hope  of  ultimate  acceptance  with 
God,  I  have  always  enjoyed  much  cheerfulness  before 
man  ;  but  I  have,  at  the  same  time,  laboured  in- 
cessantly to  cultivate  the  deepest  humiliation  before 
God.  .  .  .  There  are  but  two  objects  that  I  have 
ever  desired  for  these  forty  years  to  behold :  the  one 
is  my  own  vileness ;  and  the  other  is  the  glory  of 
God  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  I  have  always 
thought  that  they  should  be  viewed  together,  just  as 
Aaron  confessed  all  the  sins  of  all  Israel  whilst  he  put 
them  on  the  head  of  the  scape-goat.  The  disease  did 
not  keep  him  from  applying  to  the  remedy,  nor  did 
the  remedy  keep  him  from  feeling  the  disease.  By 
this  I  seek  to  be,  not  only  humhied  and  thanhfid,  but 
humbled  in  thanJcfuIness,  before  my  God  and  Saviour 
continually." 


SERAPHIM   WITH   SIX   WINGS.  229 

Nor  did  this  union  of  apparently  opposite  senti- 
ments appear  to  Mr.  Simeon  either  inconsistent  or 
undesirable.  "  I  have,  and  continually  have  had, 
such  a  sense  of  my  sinfulness,  as  would  sink  me  into 
utter  despair,  if  I  had  not  an  assured  view  of  the 
sufficiency  and  willingness  of  Christ  to  save  me  to  the 
uttermost.  x\nd,  at  the  same  time,  I  have  such  a 
sense  of  my  acceptance  through  Christ,  as  would  over- 
set my  little  bark  if  I  had  not  ballast  at  the  bottom 
sufficient  to  sink  a  vessel  of  no  ordinary  size.  This 
experience  has  been  now  so  unintermitted  for  forty 
years,  that  a  thought  of  only  some  defect,  or  of  some- 
thing which  might  have  been  done  better,  often  draws 
from  me  as  deep  a  sigh  as  if  I  had  committed  the 
most  enormous  crime.  I  am  far  from  conceiving  it  to 
be  on  the  whole  an  undesirable  experience ;  for  by 
means  of  it  my  joys  are  tempered  with  contrition,  and 
my  confidence  with  fear  and  shame.  I  consider  the 
religion  of  the  day  as  materially  defective  in  this  point; 
and  the  preaching  of  pious  ministers  defective  also. 
I  do  not  see,  so  much  as  I  could  wish,  a  holy,  reve- 
rential awe  of  God.  The  confidence  that  is  generally 
professed  does  not  sufficiently,  in  my  opinion,  savour 
of  a  creature-like  spirit  or  of  a  sinner-like  spirit.  If 
ninety-nine  out  of  a  hundred,  of  even  good  men, 
were  now  informed  for  the  first  time  that  Isaiah  in  a 
vision  saw  the  seraphim  before  the  throne,  and  that 
each  of  the  seraphs  had  six  wings,  and  then  were 
asked,  '  How  do  you  think  that  they  employ  their 
wings  ?'  I  think  their  answer  would  be,  '  How  !  why 
they  fly  with  them  with  all  their  might ;  and  if  they 
had  six  hundred  wings  they  would  do  the  same,  exert- 
ing all  their  powers  in  the  service  of  their  God }'  they 
would  never  dream  of  their  employing  two  to  veil 
20 


280  CONFLICT    WITH    SIN. 

their  faces,  as  unworthy  to  behold  their  God ;  and 
two  to  veil  their  feet,  as  unworthy  to  serve  him  ;  and 
devoting  only  the  remaining  two  to  what  might  be 
deemed  their  more  appropriate  use.  But  I  doubt 
much  whether  the  seraphs  do  not  judge  quite  as  well 
as  they,  and  serve  their  God  in  quite  as  acceptable  a 
manner  as  they  would,  if  their  energies  were  less 
blended  with  modesty  and  conscious  unworthiness. 
But  whatever  opinions  the  generality  of  Christians 
might  form,  I  confess  that  this  is  the  religion  which  I 
love.  I  would  have  conscious  unworthiness  to  pervade 
every  act  and  habit  of  my  soul ;  and  whether  the  woof 
be  more  or  less  brilliant,  I  would  have  humility  to  be 
the  warp." 

It  has  been  well  said  that  religion,  according  to  the 
man  of  the  world,  is  a  battle  and  not  a  hymn ;  accord- 
ing to  the  monk,  a  hymn  and  not  a  battle;  but 
according  to  the  practical  Christian,  a  battle  and  a 
hymn  together. 

"  Not  on  my  arm,  but  on  my  brow, 

His  sacred  sign  I'll  wear, 
That  every  one  I  meet  may  know 

Whose  name  and  arms  I  bear 
I  go  not  forth,  like  men  of  old, 

Cities  and  lands  to  win  ; 
But  oh !  I  wage  a  deadlier  strife 

Against  the  hosts  of  sin. 
Strong  in  my  God,  and  in  his  might. 

The  Spirit's  sword  I  wield ; 
And  in  his  name  abide  the  fight, 

On  my  own  battle-field." 


CHAPTER  ir. 

CONFLICT  WITH  DESPONDENCY 
AND  DOUBT. 

Contents. — Ebb  and  flow  of  feeling — Brainerd,  Payson,  Si- 
meon— How  account  for  such  changes — Emotion  not  a  test 
of  spiritual  condition — Melancholy  temperament — Payson — 
The  relations  of  mind  and  body — Cowper — Extract  from 
Douglas  of  Cavers — Simeon — Distinct  causes  of  despon- 
dency— Consciousness  of  sin — Ignorance,  misapprehension, 
or  forgetfulness  of  truth — Hezekiah — Christian  and  Hopeful 
in  the  castle  of  Giant  Despair — The  neglect  of  duty— Andrew 
Fuller  and  his  church — Personal  afflictions— Job — Disorders 
and  irregularities  of  the  world — Positive  evidences  of  the 
Divine  character — Shall  we  add  the  sovereign  hiding  of 
God's  countenance? — Statements  by  Dr.  Wardlaw — Doubt 
— Robert  Hall — James  Harington  Evans,  Robert  Alfred 
Vaughan,  Bunyan,  Payson,  Halliburton — True  explanation 
— Resting  places  provided  by  the  Bible — A  young  Brahmin 
— Extract  from  Caird — James  A.  Thomson. 


"Why  art  thou  cast  down,  0  my  soul?  and  why  art  thou  disquieted 
within  me?  Hope  thou  in  God;  for  I  shall  yet  praise  him,  who  is  the 
health  of  my  countenance,  and  my  God." — Psalm  xlii.  11. 

231 


"  Did  you  ever  sit  in  a  half-cleared  forest,  and,  looking  up,  see  the  light 
coming,  streaming  down  in  uncounted  shades  of  brown  and  gold,  and  these 
all  the  while  changing  and  running  into  each  other  with  the  rustling  leaves 
and  cloud-crossed  sun?  How  useless  to  attempt  to  chronicle  this  play  and 
interplay  of  light  and  dark!  yet  this  would  be  simple  and  easy,  compared 
with  the  effort  to  not«  the  number  and  variety  of  our  thoughts  and  feelings 
for  a  single  hour." — 11.  Ward  Bkecher. 

"  Many  have  been  the  doubts  and  fears,  deep  and  varied  the  dejection  and 
despondency  of  professed  believers  in  Christ — even  of  not  a  few  whose 
characters  have  afforded  '  lucid  proof  of  their  being  most  sincere  in  the 
profession.  To  trace  these  to  their  true  sources  is  a  matter  of  the  highest 
importance  and  interest.  But  the  anatomy  of  the  deceitful  heart  is  exceed- 
ingly intricate.  It  presents  a  variety  so  endless,  of  irregularities  and 
anomalies  in  its  structure,  as  to  render  its  dissection  and  demonstration  a 
very  delicate  and  difficult  task.  Almost  every  case  has  its  own  peculiari- 
ties. There  are,  however,  at  the  same  time,  some  general  principles,  to 
which  a  considerable  number,  at  least,  of  the  varieties  may  be  fairly 
reduced." — De.  Wakdlaw. 
232 


CONFLICT  WITH  DESPONDENCY 
AND  DOUBT. 

The  diaries  of  many  good  men  are,  for  the  most 
part,  a  record  of  feelings  as  variable  as  the  winds  or 
the  clouds.  Night  by  night  they  have  striven  to  give 
permanence,  by  their  pens,  to  "  the  play  and  inter- 
play of  light  and  dark"  which  have  passed  over  them 
during  the  day ;  and  if  the  effort  has  not  always  been 
salutary  to  themselves,  the  result  is  instructive  to 
others. 

The  experience  of  the  holy  Brainerdis  one  in  point. 
The  ebb  and  flow  of  feeling,  like  the  tide  on  the  same 
beach,  day  by  day,  which  characterized  his  earthly 
existence,  will  be  seen  in  the  following  passages  of  his 
diary  : — ''  My  life  is  a  constant  mixture  of  consolations 
and  conflicts,  and  will  be  so  till  I  arrive  at  the  world  of 
spirits."  So  he  writes  in  an  early  page  of  his  diary; 
and  the  record  is  both  true  and  prophetic  :  "  August 
12,  1742. — I  was  exercised  with  sore  inward  trials;  I 
had  no  power  to  pray,  but  seemed  shut  out  from  God. 
I  saw  so  much  of  my  own  vileness,  that  I  appeared 
worse  to  myself  than  any  devil.  I  wondered  that  God 
would  let  me  live,  and  wondered  that  people  did  not 
stone  me,  much  more  that  they  would  ever  hear  me 
preach.  It  seemed  as  though  I  could  never  preach 
anymore;  yet  about  nine  o'clock  the  people  came 
over,  and  I  was  obliged  to  preach.  And,  blessed  be 
20*  (233) 


234  CONFLICT    WITH   DESPONDENCY. 

God,  he  gave  me  his  presence  and  his  Spirit  in  preach- 
ing, so  that  I  was  much  assisted,  and  spake  with  power 
from  Job  iiv.  14  :  '  If  a  man  die,  shall  he  live  again  ? 
All  the  days  of  my  appointed  time  will  I  wait,  till 
my  change  come.'  Some  Indians  cried  out  in  great 
distress,  and  all  appeared  greatly  concerned."  ^'August 
13. — Felt  much  comfort  and  devotedness  to  God  to- 
day. At  night,  it  was  refreshing  to  get  alone  with 
God,  and  pour  out  my  soul  before  him.  Oh  !  who 
can  conceive  the  sweetness  of  communion  with  the 
blessed  God,  but  those  who  have  experience  of  it? 
Glory  be  to  God  for  ever,  that  I  may  taste  heaven 
below."  Such  were  his  consolations  and  conflicts  on 
two  succeeding  days.  '' Saturday,  March  10,  1744. — 
My  soul  was  sweetly  resigned  to  God's  disposal  of  me 
in  every  respect.  I  confided  in  God  that  he  would 
never  leave  me,  though  I  should  walk  through  the 
valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.  I  thought  that  I  then 
enjoyed  such  a  heaven  as  far  exceeded  the  most  sub- 
lime conceptions  of  my  unregenerate  soul,  and  even 
unspeakably  beyond  what  I  myself  could  conceive  at 
another  time.  .  .  .  Towards  night,  I  was  very 
sorrowful,  and  seemed  to  myself  the  worst  creature 
living.  I  could  not  pray,  nor  meditate,  nor  think  of 
holding  up  my  face  before  the  world.  Was  a  little 
relieved  in  prayer  in  the  evening,  but  afterwards  much 
perplexed,  so  that  I  could  not  sleep  quietly,"  Such 
was  his  triumph  and  his  abasement  on  the  same  day. 

The  experience  of  Dr.  Payson  was  of  the  same 
order.  "July  5,  1807. — Felt  like  a  pure  flame  of 
love  towards  God  and  man.  Self  seemed  to  be  almost 
swallowed  up.  Felt  willing  to  go  anywhere,  or  be 
anything,  by  which  God  could  be  glorified,  and  sinners 


SIMEON    IN   JOY   AND    SORROW.  235 

saved."  "July  7. — Was  harassed  with  wandering, 
gloomy,  and  distressing  imaginations.  Could  not  fix 
upon  a  text,  and  was  much  perplexed  what  to  do. 
Was  overwhelmed  with  melancholy.''  Extracts  might 
be  multiplied,  exhibiting  him  as  ''  sinking  in  deep 
waters,  where  the  floods  overflow  him,''  and  then  again, 
"  surprised  with  a  sudden  visit  from  his  blessed  Lord, 
full  of  sweetness  to  his  soul ;"  his  mind  at  one  time  so 
clogged  in  its  operations  by  his  burdens,  that  he  "  tries 
in  vain  to  write  ;"  at  another  so  buoyant,  that,  "  though 
almost  confined  to  his  bed,  he  is  enabled  to  write  a 
whole  sermon  in  a  day.  This  contrast  is  nowhere 
more  strikingly  marked  than  by  the  following  entry, 
after  sufi"ering  from  "  melancholy,  which  overwhelmed 
him  like  a  thousand  mountains,  so  that  his  soul  was 
crushed  under  it :"  ''  August  15. — Kose  in  a  sweet, 
tranquil,  thankful  frame,  blessing  God  for  the  storm 
of  yesterday,  and  the  calm  to  day.  Oh,  how  great  is 
his  wisdom,  how  great  his  goodness  !  Had  faith  and 
freedom  in  prayer.  Yesterday  I  thought  God  himself 
could  hardly  carry  me  through.  But  to-day — oh,  how 
changed!'' 

A  friend  called  on  the  Rev.  Charles  Simeon  on  one 
occasion,  and  found  him  so  absorbed  in  the  contem- 
plation of  the  Son  of  God,  and  so  overpoweijf  d  with  a 
display  of  his  mercy  to  his  soul,  that,  full  of  the 
animating  theme,  he  was  incapable  of  pronouncing  a 
single  word.  At  length,  after  an  interval,  with  accents 
big,  he  exclaimed,  "  Glory  !  glory  !  glory  !"  "  The 
relation  of  this  aff"ected  me  much,"  wrote  Mr.  Thoma- 
son,  then  a  student,  afterwards  missionary  to  India; 
"  and  I  asked  myself,  why  I  was  so  much  a  stranger  to 
it?  Why  such  coldness  in  my  soul?    If  I  love^  why  am 


236       CONFLICT  WITH  DESPONDENCY. 

I  thus  ?  You  see  a  pattern  of  zeal  and  fervency  in  that 
man  of  God,  but  what  do  you  pretend  to  ?  You  have 
neither  part  nor  lot  in  the  matter.  Such  were  my 
reasonings  :  these  led  soon  to  discouragement,  and  the 
enemy  suggested,  *  You  are  yet  in  the  gall  of  bitterness 
and  bond  of  iniquity ;'  for  certainly  I  thought  that 
profession  of  religion  is  vain  which  is  not  built  on  the 
present  possession  of  its  joys.  Sunday  evening  came, 
when  we  were  to  attend  his  lecture;  I  went  with  a  heavy 
heart.  '  If  Mr.  Simeon,'  I  said  to  myself,  '  who  is  so 
full  of  religious  joy,  and  so  flourishing  in  his  soul, 
knew  me  and  my  barrenness,  he  would  not  suffer  me 
to  enter  into  his  presence.'  Such  was  my  feeling,  when 
on  coming  to  him  I  found  this  child  of  God  in  tenfold 
more  misery  than  myself :  he  could  scarcely  discourse 
now  from  a  deep  humiliation  and  contrition  :  humbled 
before  God,  he  could  only  cry  out,  '  My  leanness  !  my 
leanness  T  and,  striking  on  his  breast,  utter  the 
publican's  prayer.  This  was  the  reverse  of  the  scene.  I 
now  perceived  that  God  dispenses  his  favours  when  and 
how  he  pleases )  that  he  suits  his  dispensations  to  our 
several  states  and  wants ;  and  that  the  safest  method 
we  can  take  is  to  be  'sober  and  vigilant' — Uo  watch 
unto  prayer,'  that  discouragement  should  not  arise 
from  occasional  difficulties,  but  that  we  should  consider 
the  religi#us  life  subject  to  those  vicissitudes  which 
we  observe  in  the  natural.  As  in  the  one,  summer 
and  winter  alternately  refresh  and  destroy,  yet  are 
both  equally  necessary;  so  in  the  other,  joys  and 
sorrows  are  equally  the  portion  of  the  good,  but  they 
are  very  necessary  ;  and  after  all,  the  word  of  God 
declares,  '•  The  righteous  hath  hope  in  his  death.'  " 

How  shall  we  account  for  such  changes  of  feeling, 


EMOTION    IN    RELIGION.  237 

often  sudden  and  extreme?  and  what  importance  shall 
we  -attach  to  them  ?  are  questions  of  some  difficulty. 
Some  indeed  would  make  short  work  of  them  by 
denouncing  them  as  visionary  and  enthusiastic — terms 
under  the  vague  odium  of  which  they  would  banish  all 
feeling  from  the  domain  of  religion.  Of  these  some 
have  no  higher  idea  of  religion  than  as  a  formal  or 
ritual  service,  whose  requirements  are  sufficiently 
complied  with  when  certain  acts  are  performed,  and 
certain  prayers  are  offered ;  and  others  regard  it  as  a 
system  worthy  of  the  credence  of  the  intellect,  but 
which  may  be  held  apart  from  the  affections  of  the 
heart.  In  the  eyes  of  these  persons  nothing  can  be 
more  allowable  or  natural  than  that  a  man  should 
weep  over  the  graves  of  his  children ;  but  for  a  man  to 
weep  over  his  sins — this  is  a  weakness  or  something 
worse.  The  acquisition  of  wealth  is  a  very  lawful 
occasion  of  joy;  but  to  rejoice  in  the  heirship  of  a 
heavenly  inheritance  is  a  delusion.  "  We  have  not  so 
learned  Christ."  In  his  personal  experience  we  can 
trace  extremes  both  of  joy  and  of  sorrow — and  these 
invariably  on  spiritual  grounds.  In  his  word  we  have 
abundant  sanction  for  sentiments  of  the  deepest 
humiliation  and  of  the  loftiest  joy.  The  publican — 
Christ's  own  type  of  a  true  penitent — could  not  so 
much  as  lift  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  but  smote  upon 
his  breast  and  said,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner.'^ 
"  There  is  joy  in  the  presence  of  the  angels  of  God 
over  one  sinner  that  repenteth." 

That  conscious  sin  is  a  sufficient  reason  for  the 
profoundest  sorrow,  and  that  the  possession  of  God's 
salvation  is  sufficient  reason  for  the  most  exalted  joy, 
admit  of  no  rational  or  Scriptural  doubt.  But  still 
the  question  returns,  whether  those  ebbs  and  flows  of 


238       CONFLICT  WITH  DESPONDENCY. 

feeling  of  which  we  have  given  examples  are  to  be 
regarded  as  a  true  index  to  the  spiritual  prosperity  of 
the  soul — to  the  strength  of  sin  on  the  one  hand,  or  of 
faith  and  holiness  on  the  other.  And  we  think  that 
they  are  not.  Simeon  is  so  full  of  joy  that  he  cannot 
speak  for  a  time,  and  at  last  exclaims,  "  Glory  !  glory  ! 
glory !"  A  few  days  after  he  is  in  the  deepest 
humiliation,  and  can  only  cry  out,  "  My  leanness  !  my 
leanness  !''  and  utter  the  publican's  prayer.  How 
shall  we  account  for  the  change  ?  Has  the  strength 
of  holy  principle  within  him  become  enfeebled  ?  If 
tested  by  any  practical  demand  to  suffer  for  Christ, 
would  he  be  less  ready  to  bear  his  cross  ?  These 
questions  may  be  answered  with  confidence.  The 
change  of  feeling  does  not  necessarily  indicate  any 
decline  of  principle.  The  loss  of  spiritual  joy,  so  far 
as  joy  is  emotional,  and  the  occurrence  of  mental  de- 
pression, may  be  occasioned  by  criminal  causes;  but 
thcT/  mai/  not. 

In  the  case  of  Payson,  for  example,  his  biographer 
tells  us  that  in  all  his  revolutions  of  feeling,  varied 
exercises,  and  changing  frames,  there  is  discoverable 
an  unvarying  simplicity  of  purpose.  "  The  destruc- 
tion of  sin,  and  the  extension  of  the  empire  of  holiness 
in  himself  and  others  are  the  objects  constantly  before 
bim.  His  eye  was  single,  and  directed  to  the  glory 
of  God  ;  and  he  longed  for  the  salvation  of  men  as  the 
work  in  which  the  divine  glory  eminently  appears." 
At  one  stage  of  his  religious  progress.  Dr.  Payson 
seems  to  have  been  so  anxious  for  happy  frames,  that, 
without  being  conscious  of  it  at  the  time,  the  obtaining 
of  such  frames  was  perhaps  the  immediate  end  of  his 
offices  of  devotion  ;  and  according  to  their  state  he 
graduated  his  hope.     As  those  were  joyful  or  gloomy, 


FEELING  AND  PRINCIPLE.  239 

this  was  elevated  or  depressed.  '^This  error/' says 
his  biographer,  ''and  the  sore  chastisement  which  he 
suffered  in  consequence,  he,  in  his  last  days,  held  forth 
as  a  warning  to  a  near  relative,  whom  he  supposed  to 
be  in  danger  of  a  similar  mistake."  "  I  wish  to  get 
away  from  frames  and  feelings/'  he  wrote  to  a  friend 
on  one  occasion,  "  and  live  continually  on  the  precious 
truth — '  Christ  has  undertaken  for  me.'  He  is  able, 
he  is  faithful ;  he  will  keep  what  he  has  undertaken  to 
keep;  he  will  do  all  he  has  undertaken  to  do."  And 
to  his  daughter  he  said,  not  many  months  before  his 
death,  "There  is  nothing  in  which  young  converts  are 
more  prone  to  err,  than  in  laying  too  much  stress  upon 
their  feelings.  If  they  have  a  comfortable  half-hour 
in  the  morning,  it  atones  for  a  multitude  of  sins  in  the 
course  of  the  day.  Christ  says,  '  If  ye  love  me,  keep 
my  commandments.'  It  would  be  well  for  us  to  pay 
more  attention  to  our  conduct,  and  prove  the  depth 
of  our  feeling  by  our  obedience." 

We  do  not  regard  emotion  as  a  test  of  a  man's 
spiritual  condition,  for  these  among  other  reasons : 
(1)  Emotion  is  not  principle.  (2)  Emotion  is  deter- 
mined to  a  large  extent  by  constitutional  temperament. 
And  (3)  emotion  is  often  dependent  on  physical  and 
external  causes. 

Emotion,  we  have  said,  is  not  principle.  Love,  as 
an  emotion  or  passion,  may  be  very  fervent,  and 
tumultuously  violent,  while  as  a  principle  of  action  it 
is  weak  and  inoperative.  Or,  on  the  contrary,  as  an 
emotion  it  may  be  asleep,  or  only  occasionally  awake, 
while  as  a  principle  it  is  uniformly  strong  and  prac- 
tical.     In    the  bosom  of  a  father,  for  example,  the 


240  CONFLICT   WITH   DESPONDENCY. 

emotion  of  love  to  his  children  may  be  consciously  or 
vividly  awakened  only  by  circumstances  of  more  or 
less  frequent  occurrence,  while  the  principle  of  love  is 
habitual  and  deep-seated,  flowing  with  all  the  strength 
and  continuance  of  a  mighty  stream,  and  constraining 
him  to  a  life  of  happy  and  ungrudging  toil  for  their 
benefit.  A  child's  love  to  his  father  is  proved  not  by 
outbursts  of  feeling,  but  by  uniform  and  hearty 
obedience;  and  a  father's  love  to  his  children  is 
proved  by  the  practical  well-doing  which  it  prompts 
and  inspires.  In  like  manner,  the  true  test  of  the 
Christian's  love  to  his  Saviour  is  not  to  be  found  in 
exultant  feeling,  but  in  simple,  earnest,  conscientious 
obedience  to  his  will.  "  Ye  are  my  friends,"  said 
Christ,  "  if  ye  do  whatsoever  I  command  you." 

The  dependence  of  a  man's  emotions  on  his  consti- 
tutional temperament  is  well-known.  That  which  pro- 
duces no  appreciable  or  visible  effect  on  one  man  is 
sufficient  to  raise  another  into  the  heights  of  ecstasy, 
or  sink  him  into  the  depths  of  despair.  Passing 
through  the  same  scenes,  and  with  substantially  the 
same  views  of  life  and  of  religion,  one  man  goes  for- 
ward with  a  calm  intentness  on  the  performance  of 
duty,  and  with  only  a  slight  ripple  on  the  waters  of 
emotion  j  while  another  is  like  a  ship  on  a  stormy  sea, 
ascending  and  descending  on  the  surface  of  every 
billow.  There  may  be  in  both  cases  equal  purity  of 
motive,  equal  conscientiousness,  equal  devotedness  to 
the  Saviour — whilst  the  emotional  difference  is  the 
result  of  purely  constitutional  causes. 

As  a  further  reason  for  not  regarding  the  emotions 
as  a  test  of  spiritual  declension  or  of  spiritual  progress, 


BODILY   DISORDERS.  241 

we  have  said  that  emotion  is  to  a  large  extent  depend- 
ent on  physical  and  external  causes.  And  this  is  but 
a  widening  of  the  observation,  that  emotion  is  deter- 
mined to  a  large  extent  by  constitutional  temperament. 

The  relations  of  mind  and  body,  and  their  mutual 
influences,  are  involved  in  much  mystery.  There  are 
some  bodily  disorders  which  do  not  affect  the  mind 
injuriously.  The  mental  power  is  often  unimpaired 
and  vigorous  in  the  very  hour  of  death.  '^  My  soul," 
said  Dr.  Payson  himself  on  his  death-bed,  "  instead  of 
growing  weaker  and  more  languishing,  as  my  body 
does,  seems  to  be  endued  with  an  angel's  energies, 
and  to  be  ready  to  break  from  the  body  to  join  those 
around  the  throne." 

But  all  bodily  disorders  are  not  equally  harmless 
in  their  influence  on  the  mind.  The  influence  of 
nervous  ailments  on  religious  experience  is  very  disas- 
trous;  and  for  the  feelings  produced  by  them  we  are 
not  accountable,  except  so  far  as  we  are  accountable 
for  inducing  that  state  of  physical  organization  from 
which  they  result.  ''They  are  the  offspring  of  a 
diseased  mind,  and  cannot  be  shaken  off  whilst  the 
physical  cause  remains.  Every  physical  state  of  the 
nervous  system  has  a  correspondent  state  of  mental 
emotion  ;  and  to  remove  the  latter,  the  former  must  be 
changed.  No  mental  diseases  are  so  little  understood 
as  those  originating  in  a  physical  cause  ;  none  excite 
so  little  sympathy,  none  are  more  real,  and  none  give 
rise  to  more  exquisite  suffering.  The  unhappy  victim 
passes  long  and  wretched  hours  in  the  miserable  world 
presented  through  the  medium  of  a  diseased  mind, 
till  death  sweeps  him  and  his  sorrows  to  the  land  of 
forgetful ness;  yet,  while  the  physical  cause  continues 
its  influence,  a  man  might  as  well  attempt  to  heap 
21 


242  CONFLICT   WITH   DESPONDENCY. 

Pelion  on  Ossa,  as  to  remove  from  his  burdened  mind 
the  pressure  of  distempered  imaginations.  Let  those 
testify,  upon  whom  djspepsy  has  laid  her  leaden  hand, 
quenching  the  fire  of  feeling  and  imagination,  checking 
the  flow  of  intellect,  and  haunting  the  mind  with 
spectral  apparitions  of  unreal  evil." 

The  case  of  the  pious,  but  afflicted  Cowper  will  at 

once  occur  to  the  reader  as  an  extreme 

bom^ No™  26?i73i  i  instance  of  the  mental  misery  that  is 

died  April  25,  1800.        „  -,  i       i  ,         •       i 

often  produced  by  physical  causes. 
The  poet  had  glided  through  life  till  he  was  one-and 
thirty  years  old,  without  God  and  without  Christ. 
He  was  subject,  however,  even  at  this  period,  to  a 
morbid  depression,  which  it  required  only  circum- 
stances to  ripen  into  madness.  These  occurred  in 
connection  with  his  appointment  to  a  public  office, 
and  threw  him  into  a  nervous  fever,  which  ended  in 
repeated  attempts  to  commit  suicide.  That  gospel, 
which  the  world  blamed  as  the  cause  of  his  insanity, 
found  him  already  insane,  and  was  a  principal  means 
of  his  restoration  to  mental  soundness.  In  prose  and 
in  poetry  he  has  left  his  own  testimony  to  this  fact. 
During  the  eight  months  of  his  seclusion  in  a  private 
asylum  at  St.  Albans,  his  soul  was  filled  with  convictions 
of  sin,  which  induced  despair.  But  his  burden  was  re- 
moved by  these  words,  "  Whom  God  hath  set  forth  to 
be  a  propitiation  through  faith  in  his  blood,  to  declare 
his  righteousness  for  the  remission  of  sins  that  are 
past,  through  the  forbearance  of  God."  "  I  saw," 
he  says,  "  the  sufficiency  of  the  atonement  Christ  had 
made,  my  pardon  sealed  in  his  blood,  and  all  the 
fulness  and  completeness  of  his  justification.  In  a 
moment,  I  believed  and  received  the  gospel.  What- 
ever my  friend  Madan  had   said  to  me  so  long  before 


WILLIAM    COWPER.  243 

revived  with  all  its  clearness,  with  demonstration  of 
the  Spirit  and  with  power."  "  It  was  such  a  change," 
sa}s  Dr.  Cheever,  '^  so  bright,  so  sudden,  so  complete, 
so  joyful,  that  at  first  his  kind.  Christian,  and  watch- 
ful physician,  Dr.  Cotton,  was  alarmed  lest  it  might 
terminate  in  frenzy  ^  but  he  soon  became  convinced 
of  the  sacred  soundness  and  permanent  blissfulness  of 
the  cure.  Every  morning  of  the  year  he  visited  his 
interesting  and  beloved  patient ;  and  ever,  in  secret 
communion,  the  gospel  was  the  delightful  theme  of 
their  conversation.  What  a  history  of  passing  hours 
within  the  apartments  of  an  insane  hospital !  Oh,  if 
this  were  the  theme  of  communion,  and  this  the  in- 
strumentality of  healing  oftener  employed,  how  many 
distressed,  diseased,  and  wandering  spirits  might  have 
been  restored,  that,  neglected  still,  have  wandered  on 
till  the  wreck  of  reason  has  become  confirmed  and 
hopeless  !  The  voice  of  Christ  is  the  voice  of  true 
Bcience  to  every  lunatic,  *  Bring  him  hither  to  me.'  " 

In  the  third  book  of  "  The  Task,"  Cowper's  touch- 
ing "account  of  himself"  is  as  follows  : — 

"  I  was  a  stricken  deer,  that  left  the  herd 
Long  since ;  with  many  an  arrow  deep  infixed 
My  panting  side  was  charged,  when  I  withdrew 
To  seek  a  tranquil  death  in  distant  shades. 
There  was  I  found  by  One  who  had  himself 
Been  hurt  by  the  archers.    In  his  side  he  bore, 
And  in  his  handfi  and  feet,  the  cruel  scars. 
With  gentle  force  soliciting  the  darts, 
He  drew  them  forth,  and  healed,  and  bade  me  live. 
Since  then,  with  few  associates,  in  remote 
And  silent  woods,  I  wander,  far  from  those 
My  former  partners  of  the  peopled  scene : 
With  few  associates,  and  not  wishing  more. 
Here  much  I  ruminate,  as  much  I  may, 
With  other  views  of  men  and  manners  now 
Than  once,  and  others  of  a  life  to  come." 

Those  ^^  other  views"  which  he  now  cherished  were 


244       CONFLICT  WITH  DESPONDENCY. 

far  from  gloomy  or  morbid.  Writing  to  a  friend,  years 
after  the  deliverance  of  which  they  were  the  means, 
he  said  :  "  Marshall  ['  On  Sanctification']  is  an  old 
acquaintance  of  mine.  I  have  both  read  him  and  heard 
him  read  with  pleasure  and  edification.  The  doctrines 
lie  maintains  are,  under  the  influence  of  the  Spirit  of 
Christ,  the  very  life  of  my  soul,  and  the  soul  of  all  my 
happiness.  That  Jesus  is  a  present  Saviour  from  the 
guilt  of  sin  by  his  most  precious  blood,  and  from  the 
power  of  it  by  his  Spirit ;  that,  corrupt  and  wretched 
in  ourselves,  in  him,  and  in  lum  onlrj,  we  are  com- 
plete ;  that,  beiug  united  to  Jesus  by  a  lively  faith, 
"we  have  a  solid  and  eternal  interest  in  his  obedience 
and  sufferings,  to  justify  us  before  the  face  of  our 
heavenly  Father ;  and  that  all  this  inestimable  trea- 
sure, the  earnest  of  which  is  in  grace,  and  its  con- 
summation in  glory,  is  given,  freely  given,  to  us  of 
God;  in  short,  he  hath  opened  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  to  all  believers :  these  are  the  truths  which, 
by  the  grace  of  God,  shall  ever  be  dearer  to  me  than 
life  itself — shall  ever  be  placed  next  my  heart,  as  the 
throne  whereon  the  Saviour  himself  shall  sit,  to  sway 
all  its  motions,  and  reduce  that  world  of  iniquity  and 
rebellion  to  a  state  of  filial  and  affectionate  obedience 
to  the  will  of  the  Most  Holy." 

And  dearer  than  life  itself,  these  truths  ever  were 
to  the  heart  of  Cowper,  although,  through  the  power 
of  an  insane  delusion,  he  afterwards  judged  himself  to 
have  no  right  or  title  to  appropriate  them  to  himself. 
*'  More  mighty  than  the  word  of  God,  a  supposed  new 
revelation  sprang  up  in  his  mind  that  he  was  to  be  an 
exception  to  that  which  admitted  of  no  exception — the 
free  and  full  proclamation  of  mercy  through  the  gospel 
to   sinners."     He  was   often    conscious   of  the   true 


COWrER    A   PRISONER    OF    HOPE.  245 

cause  of  his  dejection  ;  but  that  consciousness  imparted 
to  him  but  little  comfort.  Of  another  instance  of 
spiritual  distress  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Newton  thus:  "I  have 
no  doubt  that  it  is  distemper ;  but  distresses  of  mind 
that  are  occasioned  by  distemper  are  the  most  difficult 
of  all  to  deal  with.  They  refuse  all  consolation  :  they 
will  hear  no  reason.  God  only,  by  his  own  immediate 
impressions  can  remove  them;  as,  after  an  experience  of 
thirteen  years'  misery,  I  can  abundantly  testify."  And 
yet,  in  the  midst  of  that  misery  (in  1787),  he  could 
look  back  past  those  thirteen  years  to  a  period  of  light 
and  happiness,  in  reference  to  which  he  would  some- 
times say  that  he  could  not  be  so  duped,  even  by  the 
arch-enemy  himself,  as  to  be  made  to  question  the 
divine  nature  of  the  peace  and  comfort  which  he  had 
then  enjoyed. 

In  seasons  of  gloom  we  find  him  writing  letters  of 
consolation  to  afflicted  friends,  in  which  there  are 
references  to  an  anticipated  happy  meeting  in  a  better 
world;  which  would  indicate  that,  amid  all  his  personal 
despair,  he  was  still  the  "  prisoner  of  hope"  himself, 
and  kept  in  the  bottom  of  his  heart  something  of  the 
encouragement  he  gave  to  others.  Thus  to  Dr.  Bagot, 
on  occasion  of  a  fresh  and  common  sorrow,  he  said,  in 
1793,  ^'Both  you  and  I  have  this  comfort  when 
deprived  of  those  we  love;  at  our  time  of  life  we  have 
every  reason  to  believe  that  the  deprivation  cannot  be 
long.  Our  sun  is  setting,  too,  and  when  the  hour  of 
rest  arrives,  we  shall  rejoin  your  brother,  and  many 
whom  we  have  tenderly  loved,  our  forerunners  into  a 
better  country." 

All  reasoning  is  in  vain,  in  cases  of  this  order.  "  We 
have  had  experience  of  this,"   says  Mr.  Douglas  of 
Cavers,  "in  the  case  of  an  aged  Christian,  who  had 
21* 


246  CONFLICT    WITH    DESPONDENCY. 

most  full  views  of  the  gospel,  but  who  yet  suffered 
the  impressions  of  his  own  mind — contrary  to  his  own 
convictions — contrary  to  his  own  writings — to  prevail 
against  acknowledged  truth  ;  and  though  conversation 
and  reasoning  might  for  a  moment  dissipate  the  dark- 
ness, yet  the  clouds  would  still  return  after  rain. 
This  mental  and  perhaps  incurable  malady — which 
suffers  a  belief  in  the  gospel  to  be  accompanied  by  a 
denial  of  its  applicability  to  the  individual  himself — 
presents,  where  it  is  altogether  involuntary,  a  sublime 
and  prolonged  martyrdom ;  where  the  morbid  mind 
still  cleaves  to  the  Saviour  without  a  hope  of  partici- 
pating in  so  great  and  so  free  a  salvation.'^ 

We  have  spoken  of  Cowper's  as  an  extreme  case ; 
but  there  are  many  substantially  like  it;  and  the 
principle  which  it  involves  of  the  dependence  of  emo- 
tion on  physical  and  external  causes  is  illustrated  by 
every  day's  experience.  When  bright  sunshine  and  a 
bracing  atmosphere  exhilarate  our  spirits,  or  when  a 
thick  and  heavy  atmosphere  and  gloomy  sunless 
weather  depress  our  spirits,  we  are  personal  wit- 
nesses to  its  truth.  Man  is  fearfully  and  wonderfully 
made ;  and  the  soul  within  vibrates  sensitively  to  the 
pulsations  of  the  body  in  which  it  is  enshrined,  some- 
times very  gently  and  pleasantly,  but  sometimes 
violently  and  painfully — a  fact  which  renders  it  im- 
possible that  we  should  accept  the  rising  and  falling 
of  our  emotions  as  a  test  of  the  rising  and  falling  of 
our  spiritual  state  before  God. 

It  is  still  true  that  our  emotions  do  often  spring 
directly  and  naturally  from  our  spiritual  state.  ^'Some- 
times," said  Mr.  Simeon  in  his  diary  during  a  journey 
in  1807,  ''  I  have  been  as  dull  and  stupid  as  ever;  but 


CONSCIOUSNESS   OF   SIN.  247 

frequently,  and  in  an  unusual  degree,  my  spirit  has 
rejoiced  in  God  my  Saviour.  Doubtless,  the  elevation 
of  joy  has  arisen  in  part  from  a  flow  of  animal  spirits; 
but  I  hope  and  trust  that  there  has  been  something 
more  than  nature  in  it.  My  brother  E.  is  a  little  dis- 
posed to  undervalue  the  exercise  of  the  affections, 
from  an  idea  that  they  are  stirred  up  by  human 
efforts,  and  are  likely  to  give  us  a  mistaken  apprehen- 
sion of  our  state.  Hence  he  labours  rather  to  sup- 
press than  to  excite  the  fervour  of  his  affections ;  but 
if  we  can  'rejoice  even  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full 
of  glory,'  I  think  it  desirable  to  do  so,  provided  we 
preserve  a  becoming  jealousy  respecting  the  abuse  of 
our  affections  [emotions  or  feelings],  in  a  way  of 
enthusiasm  or  of  pride.'' 

Mr.  Simeon  was  right.  It  is  desirable  to  rejoice 
always,  provided  we  exercise  a  "  becoming  jealousy," 
lest  we  make  our  emotions  the  test  of  our  spiritual 
condition,  or  pervert  them  into  the  food  of  pride.  The 
gospel  brings  peace  and  joy  to  the  soul,  and  these  in 
various  degrees,  and  according  to  the  constitutional 
susceptibilities  of  the  believer,  are  the  habitual  state 
of  the  Christian's  heart,  except  as  marred  by  disease, 
or  unbelief,  or  sin,  or  error,  or  some  latent  and  undis- 
coverable  cause.  And  we  now  proceed  to  consider 
some  causes  of  despondency  which  are  distinct  and 
discoverable. 

The  first  cause  of  spiritual  despondency  with  which 
we  ought  to  deal  is  the  consciousness  of  sin — of  known 
and  specific  sins.  In  this  there  can  be  no  deliverance 
from  despondency  without  the  abandonment  of  the  sin 
which  produces  it.  All  attempts  to  say  ''peace"  to 
the  soul;  while  the  soul  cherishes  its  secret  lust,  will 


248  CONFLICT   WITH   DESPONDENCY. 

be  futile.  What  Achan  was  to  the  camp  of  Israel,  that 
sin  is  to  the  Christian  heart.  By  "  a  law  of  the  God 
of  Israel/'  it  is  sorrow  and  trouble.  Holy  peace  and 
satisfaction  are  to  be  attained  only  by  casting  it  out. 

A  gentleman,  who  attended  the  preaching  of  Mr. 
(afterwards  Dr.)  Adam  Clarke  for  some  time,  was 
deeply  convinced  of  sin.  He  became  diligent  in  his 
attendance  on  the  public  ministry,  deplored  his  sins, 
and  with  strong  crying  and  tears  sought  pardon  of 
God  for  his  transgressions  through  the  blood  of  Jesus 
Christ.  He  sought,  but  found  not;  he  mourned,  but 
was  not  comforted.  Shortly  afterwards  he  was  con- 
fined to  his  chamber  by  sickness,  and  sent  for  Mr. 
Clarke  to  pray  with  him  and  for  him.  Mr,  Clarke 
did  so ;  and  when  he  learned  how  long  the  man  had 
thus  mourned,  and  saw  his  apparent  sincerity  and 
earnestness,  he  wondered  at  God's  so  long  withhold- 
ing, as  it  seemed,  a  manifestation  of  pardon  from 
such  deep  repentance.  But  he  charged  not  God 
foolishly;  but  rather,  on  finding,  after  oft-repeated 
visits,  that  the  lamp  of  life  was  burning  low,  and  that 
the  mental  agony  of  the  penitent  was  even  hurrying 
on  its  extinction,  he  said  tenderly  but  firmly,  "  It  is 
not  often  that  God  thus  deals  with  a  soul  deeply 
humbled  as  yours  is,  and  so  earnestly  in  his  own 
appointed  way  seeking  redemption  through  the  blood 
of  his  Son.  Sir,  there  must  be  a  cause  for  this ;  and 
you  have  yet  left  something  undone  which  it  was,  and 
is,  your  interest  and  duty  to  have  done.  God  judge 
betwixt  you  and  it." 

The  gentleman  fixed  his  eyes  intently  on  Mr. 
Clarke,    raised    himself    up    in    bed,    and    gave    the 

following    narration  : — "  In  the  year  ,  I  was  at 

,  and    took    my    passage   in    the   ship   for 


FACT   IN    THE   LIFE   OF   DR.    A.    CLARKE.        249 

England.  Before  we  sailed,  some  merchants  of  that 
place  came  to  the  vessel,  and  put  on  board  a  small 
bag  of  dollars,  which  they  gave  in  charge  to  the 
captain  to  carry  to  such  and  such  persons.  I  saw  this 
transaction,  and  marked  the  captain's  carelessness; 
for  instead  of  putting  the  bag  in  a  place  of  safety,  he 
left  it  day  after  day  rolling  on  the  locker.  For  the 
simple   purpose   of  frightening   him,   I   hid   it.      He 

made   no  inquiries;  and  we    arrived  at ;  and  I 

still  retained  it  till  it  should  be  missed.  Month  after 
month  passed  away,  and  still  no  inquiry  was  made  for 
the  lust  property.  The  persons  to  whom  it  was  con- 
signed came  to  the  captain  for  it.  He  remembered  its 
having  been  given  into  his  charge,  but  nothing  more  : 
it  might  have  been  left  behind.  Search  was  made, 
but  no  trace  of  the  lost  treasure  could  be  discovered. 
All  this  occupied  months.  I  had  now  become  alarmed, 
and  was  ashamed  to  confess,  lest  it  should  implicate 
my  character.  I  then  purposely  secreted  the  pro- 
perty. The  captain  was  sued  for  the  amount;  and, 
having  nothing  to  pay,  he  was  thrown  into  prison, 
firmly  maintaining  his  innocency  of  the  theft,  but 
pleading  guilty  to  the  charge  of  carelessness  respect- 
ing his  trust.  He  languished  in  prison  for  two  years, 
and  then  died.  Guilt  had  by  this  time  hardened  my 
mind.  I  strove  to  be  happy  by  stifling  my  conscience 
with  the  cares  and  amusements  of  the  world;  but  all 
in  vain.  I  at  last  heard  you  preach ;  and  then  it  was 
that  the  voice  of  God  broke  in  upon  my  conscience, 
and  reasoned  with  me  of  righteousness  and  of  judg- 
ment to  come.  Hell  got  hold  upon  my  spirit.  I 
have  prayed;  I  have  deplored;  I  have  agonized  at 
the  throne  of  mercy,  fur  the  sake  of  Christ,  for 
pardon,  but  God  is  deaf  to  my  prayer :  Christ  casts 


250  CONFLICT    WITH    DESPONDENCY. 

out  mj  petition  :  there  is  no  mercy  for  me  :  I  must 
go  down  into  the  ground  unpardoned,  unsaved." 

The  injured  captain  was  dead,  but  the  widow  and 
fatherless  children  still  lived;  and  Mr.  Clarke  suggested 
to  the  dying  penitent  that  God  claimed  from  him  not 
only  repentance  but  restitution.  To  this  he  willingly 
consented.  The  sum,  with  its  interest  and  compound 
interest,  was  made  up  :  the  circumstances  of  the  case, 
without  the  name,  were  made  known  to  the  widow 
and  the  persons  concerned,  through  the  medium  of  Mr. 
Clarke.  Shortly  afterwards  the  troubled  mind  of  the 
dying  man  was  calmed;  "and  in  the  full  assurance 
of  the  mercy  of  God,  through  the  merits  of  Christ, 
this  penitent  soul  exchanged  worlds ;  a  warning  to  all 
the  workers  of  iniquity ;  a  lesson  to  the  ministers  of 
Christ  not  to  charge  God  foolishly,  M'hen  any  such 
cases  come  before  their  spiritual  cognizance ;  an 
exhortation  to  such  as  have  received  the  wages  of 
unrighteousness,  not  only  to  confess,  but  to  restore  to 
the  full  all  ill-gotten  gain  ;  and  a  loud  call  upon  all  who 
think  that  they  stand  to  take  heed  lest  they  fall."* 

The  Christian  can  have  no  better  guide  to  the  reco- 
very of  peace  and  spiritual  enjoyment  than  the  fifty- 
first  Psalm.  The  moment  that  David's  conscience 
responded  to  the  prophet's  "  Thou  art  the  man,"  his 
confession  before  God  was,  "  x\gainst  thee,  thee  only, 
have  I  sinned,  and  done  this  evil  in  thy  sight:  that 
thou  mightest  be  justified  when  thou  speakest; 
be  clear  when  thou  judgest."  And,  along  with 
confession,  there  was  the  will  and  the  prayer  to  be  in- 
wardly and  wholly  cleansed.  "  Wash  me  thoroughly 
from  mine  iniquity,  and  cleanse  me  from  my  sin. 
Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  0  God;  and  renew  a  right 

*  "Life  of  Dr.  Adam  Clarke,"  by  his  Daughter.  Book  V. 


PARDONING    MERCY.  251 

spirit  within  me."  Had  the  sin  of  Ananias  and 
Sapphira  remained  undiscovered  and  visibly  un- 
punished, concealed  in  their  two  hearts,  it  would  have 
been  its  own  punishment — death  to  the  happiness 
of  both.  Christian  enjoyment  would  have  been  im- 
possible till  it  was  brought  forth  from  its  hiding  place, 
confessed,  and  forsaken.  In  this  matter  there  must 
be  no  reserve.    The  Christian  must  say  with  Cowper — 

"  The  dearest  idol  I  hare  known, 
Whate'er  that  idol  be, 
Help  me  to  tear  it  from  thy  throne 
And  worship  only  thee." 

But,  along  with  this  abandonment  of  known  sin, 
there  must  be  faith  in  the  pardoning  mercy  of  God, 
and  in  him  through  whom  it  flows.  "Have  mercy 
upon  me,  0  God,  according  to  thy  loving-kindness," 
said  David ;  "  according  unto  the  multitude  of  thy  ten- 
der mercies  blot  out  my  transgressions."  If  any  man 
sin,  we  have  an  Advocate  with  the  Father,  Jesus  Christ 
the  righteous  :  and  he  is  the  propitiation  for  our  sins  : 
and  not  for  ours  only,  but  also  for  the  sins  of  the 
whole  world."*  The  Christian,  forsaking  the  sin  which 
has  wounded  his  conscience  and  clouded  his  hopes, 
must  look  to  this  Divine  Advocate  and  his  great  propi- 
tiation, for  renewed  peace  and  confidence.  Nothing 
but  that  sprinkling  of  atoning  blood  which  calmed  his 
fears  when  he  first  saw  his  guilt  and  danger  can  restore 
that  hope  and  happiness  of  which  conscious  sin  has 
deprived  him. 

But  how  often  may  one  venture  to  apply  for  the 
cleansing  of  the  blood  of  Jesus  ?  After  once  and 
again  and  many  times  receiving  forgiveness,  one  feels 
as  if  he  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself  in  still  coming 

*1  John  ii.1,2. 


252       CONFLICT  WITH  DESPONDENCY. 

to  ask  pardon.  The  feeling  is  natural,  but  it  must  be 
overcome.  "  Lord,  how  oft  shall  my  brother  sin  against 
me,  and  I  forgive  him  V  said  Peter  :  '^  till  seven  times  ? 
Jesus  saith  unto  him,  I  say  not  unto  thee,  Until 
seven  times;  but.  Until  seventy  times  seven," — that  is, 
times  without  number.  '*As  often  as  thou  art  sinned 
against,  thou  art  to  forgive."  Now  Christ  has  taught 
us  to  pray  to  our  Father  in  heaven  that  he  will  forgive 
us  our  tresspasses,  as  we  forgive  them  that  trespass 
against  us.  Put  these  two  things  together.  We  are 
taught  to  forgive  oflfenders  against  ourselves,  times 
without  number;  and  we  are  taught  to  ask  God  to  for- 
give us  as  we  forgive  these.  Then  he  is  prepared  in 
his  rich  mercy  to  forgive  us,  not  seven  times,  but 
seventy  times  seven — times  without  nur^tber.  What 
a  joy  to  frail,  erring,  sinning  mortals !  No  honest 
heart  will  take  encouragement  from  it  to  continue  in 
sin,  or  to  repeat  sin.  But  burdened,  broken,  contrite 
hearts  will  find  encouragement  in  it  to  make  daily 
application  to  the  open,  unsealed  fountain  of  the 
Saviour's  blood.  Ashamed  of  our  sins  we  ought  ever 
to  be,  but  never  ashamed  to  ask  our  Father  to  forgive 
them.  We  cannot  "  run  in  the  way  of  God's  com- 
mandments" without  the  *'  enlargement,"  the  spiritual 
freedom,  to  be  derived  from  the  continuous  enjoyment 
of  pardoning  mercy. 

*'  Satan,  who  so  fawningly  enticed  the  soul  to  sin," 
says  Dr.  South,  "  will  now  as  bitterly  upbraid  it  for 
having  sinned.  The  same  hand  that  laid  the  bait  and 
the  corn  to  draw  the  silly  fowl  into  the  net,  when  it  is 
once  in,  will  have  its  life  for  coming  thither.  Satan 
never  so  cruelly  insults,  or  plays  tlie  tyrant,  as  in 
this  case.  If  God  casts  down  the  soul,  he  will  trample 
upon  it.     He  will  set  a  new  stamp  and  name  upon 


PARDONING    MERCY.  253 

every  sin.  Every  backsliding  shall  be  total  apostasy. 
Every  sin  against  light  and  knowledge  shall  be  height- 
ened into  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost.  The  con- 
science shall  not  be  able  to  produce  one  argument  for 
itself,  but  he  will  retort  it.  If  it  shall  plead  former 
assurance  of  God's  favour,  from  the  inward  witness  of 
his  Spirit,  Satan  would  persuade  the  soul  that  it  was 
but  a  spirit  of  delusion.  If  it  shall  argue  an  interest 
in  God's  promises  from  former  obedience,  as  a  fruit  of 
that  faith  that  never  fails,  Satan  will  tell  the  soul  that 
it  cannot  prove  its  former  obedience  to  have  proceeded 
from  such  a  faith,  since  even  a  hypocrite  may  go  very 
far.  And  lastly,  if  it  would  draw  comfort  from  that 
abundant  redemption  that  the  death  of  Christ  offers 
to  all  that  are  truly  sensible  of  their  sins,  Satan  will 
reply,  that  to  such  as,  by  relapsing  into  sin,  have 
trampled  under  foot  the  blood  of  the  covenant,  there 
remains  no  further  propitiation  for  sin.  Now,  with 
these  and  the  like  rejoinders  will  he  endeavour  to 
baffle  and  invalidate  all  a  sinner's  pretences  to  pardon." 
Nothing  but  the  constant  "  looking  unto  Jesus" 
will  preserve  the  soul  from  sinking  into  despondency 
in  view  of  its  daily  sins  and  shortcomings.  "  I  deeply 
sympathize  with  you  in  the  consciousness  of  sin," 
said  the  Rev.  George  Wagner,  in  writing  to  a  friend. 
"  My  sins   often   seem  to  me  infinite  in   number,  and 

scarlet  in  guilt But  despair  ? — never.     Never, 

till  God  sweeps  away  his  own  unchangeable  promises, 
and  obliterates  the  cross  of  his  beloved  Son ;  never, 
whilst  Jesus  lives,  and  is  ichat  he  is — tender  and 
mighty  to  save.  Humiliation  is  of  God  ;  and,  oh,  I 
long  to  lie  lower  before  him, — to  be  subdued,  lowly, 
and  still.     But  despair  is  of  Satan ;  and  we   cannot 

resist  it  too  earnestly." 
22 


254       CONFLICT  WITH  DESPONDENCY. 

It  may  be,  however,  that  the  believer's  despondency 
or  gloom  does  not  arise  from  the  consciousness  of 
specific  sins,  but  from  an  inward  sense  of  iiTvper/ection, 
and  from  a  general  feeling  of  the  power  of  remaining 
corruption.  Many  a  child  of  God  has  felt  his  spirit 
sink  within  him  from  an  oppressive  sense  of  deficiency, 
when  he  has  contemplated  the  duty  of  ^' walking  even 
as  Christ  walked, '^  and  of  '^purifying  himself  even  as 
he  is  pure ;"  and  no  comfort  should  be  administered 
that  would  lower  his  standard  of  duty,  or  satisfy  him 
with  an  inferior  aim.  But  it  is  well  to  remember 
that  the  inward  conflict  between  the  flesh  and  the 
spirit  constitutes  the  very  distinction  between  the 
regenerate  and  the  unregenerate,  the  children  of  God 
and  the  children  of  the  wicked  one.  The  unregene- 
rate man  may  find  his  judgment  often  at  variance  with 
his  inclinations,  but  he  can  have  no  love  to  God,  no 
delight  in  his  law,  no  desire  after  fellowship  with  him 
or  conformity  to  his  holiness.  These  are  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  new  nature,  against  which,  to  the  very 
end,  the  old  will  continue  to  strive.  And  this  inward 
conflict  forms  part  of  the  recorded  experience  of  the 
most  advanced  and  elevated  and  spiritually  minded 
Christians. 

Nor  can  it  be  regarded  as  other  than  an  unfavour- 
able symptom  of  the  spiritual  condition  of  any  pro- 
fessor of  faith  in  Christ,  that  he  should  fancy  that  he 
"has  already  attained,  or  is  already  perfect."  Either 
he  is  using  words  in  a  sense  very  different  from  that 
which  was  attached  to  them  by  the  apostle  Paul  (as 
probably  some  do),  or  he  is,  in  the  language  of  the 
apostle  John,  ''  deceiving  himself."  The  man  who 
indulges  a  comfortable  self-complacency,  and  is  pleased 
with  the  measure  of  his  spiritual  acquirements,  is  very 


SENSE    OF    IMPERFECTION.  255 

unlike  that  servant  of  tlie  Lord  who  said,  "  Brethren, 
I  count  not  myself  to  have  apprehended  :  but  this  one 
thing  I  do,  forgetting  those  things  vrhich  are  behind, 
and  reaching  forth  unto  those  which  are  before,  I 
press  toward  the  mark  for  the  prize  of  the  high 
calling  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus."  In  the  passage  in 
which  these  words  occur*  there  is  "  a  beautiful  union 
of  Christian  principles, — simple,  thankful,  exclusive 
dependence,  for  present  and  final  acceptance  with 
God,  on  the  perfect  righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ ; 
combined  with  steadfast,  ardent,  influential  desires 
after  an  increase  of  spiritual  attainments, — after  an 
accelerating  progress  in  the  life  of  faith,  and  love,  and 
holiness.  This  is  the  example  which  every  Christian 
should  emulate/' 

When  the  apostle  said,  "  I  am  persuaded  that 
neither  death,  nor  life,  nor  angels,  nor  principalities, 
nor  powers,  nor  things  present,  nor  things  to  come, 
nor  height,  nor  depth,  nor  any  other  creature,  shall  be 
able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in 
Christ  Jesus  our  Lord,"f  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  he  had  ceased  to  feel  that  ''  law  in  his  members'' 
which  had  once  warred  with  "  the  law  of  his  mind,'' 
or  that  he  was  no  longer  conscious  of  sin.  "  The 
sense  of  sin  and  the  triumph  of  faith  were  experienced 
together.  And  in  proportion,  indeed,  as  the  love  of 
God  and  the  holy  visions  of  hope  were  felt  to  be 
captivating,  would  the  remaining  tendencies  to  evil 
be  deplored  as  burdensome  and  afflicting.  Building 
on  the  same  foundation,  and  drawing  from  the  same 
fulness,  we  may  adopt  the  same  language  of  humble 
yet  steadfast  confidence,  of  lively  satisfaction,  and 
exulting  hope." 

*  Philipians  iii.  ^—U.  t  Romans  yiii.  38,  39. 


256  CONFLICT    WITH    DESPONDENCY. 

There  is  no  more  fruitful  source  of  despondency 
than  ignorance  or  misapprehension  of  truth.  And  if 
known  truth  be  overlooked  or  neglected,  the  same 
unhappy  effects  will  follow.  To  this  cause  mainly  we 
ascribe  the  despondency  of  Hezekiah  in  the  prospect 
of  death.  The  ode  which  he  composed  after  his  re- 
covery, as  a  record  of  his  sentiments  when  he  thought 
himself  dying,  and  of  his  gratitude  when  his  life  was 
prolonged,  is  preserved  in  Holy  Scripture;*  and  it 
is  with  mingled  and  painful  feelings  that  one  reads  it. 
The  melancholy  which  pervades  it  is  unworthy  of 
''good  king  Hezekiah."  True  it  is  that  a  long  life 
was  the  common  earthly  reward  of  the  faithful  ser- 
vants of  God  under  the  Jewish  economy  :  true,  like- 
wise, that  Hezekiah  was  at  this  time  childless,  without 
a  son  to  sit  on  his  throne.  And  in  these  circum- 
stances the  prospect  of  death  was  doubly  painful ;  the 
destroyer  seemed  to  come  as  a  messenger  of  divine  dis- 
pleasure. As  a  man,  it  may  be  added,  that  Hezekiah 
was  constitutionally  of  feeble  mind,  lacking  in  vigour 
and  steadfast  energy;  a  mind  which,  but  for  the  holy 
principle  which  governed  him,  would  have  rendered 
him  the  victim  of  circumstances,  and  left  him  at  the 
mercy  of  wind  and  tide.  And  all  this  has  to  be  taken 
into  account  in  reading  the  dolorous  strains  of  the  king 
of  Judah. 

But,  after  all,  the  principal  occasion  of  the  gloom 
and  sadness  which  covered  his  spirit  on  what  he 
deemed  his  death-bed  was,  that  he  looked  at  the  things 
which  are  seen  and  temporal,  and  not  at  the  things 
which  are  unseen  and  eternal.  In  this  he  was  not 
a  worthy  son  of  Abraham,  nor  a  worthy  disciple  of 
Moses.     By  faith   Abraham   sojourned  in  the  land  of 

*  Isaiah  xxxviii.  9 — liO. 


hezekiah's  melancholy.  257 

promise  as  in  a  strange  country ;  for  he  looked  for 
that  city  whose  foundations  are  everlasting,  whose 
builder  and  maker  is  God.  The  patriarchs,  confessing 
themselves  to  be  pilgrims  and  strangers  on  the  earth, 
died  in  faith,  desiring  a  better  country,  that  is,  an 
heavenly.  Moses  chose  rather  to  suffer  affliction  with 
the  people  of  God,  than  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  sin 
for  a  season.  He  esteemed  the  reproach  of  Christ 
greater  riches  than  the  treasures  of  Egypt :  for  he 
looked  away  from  that  which  was  before  his  eyes  unto 
the  recompense  of  the  reward;  he  endured  as  seeing 
Him  who  is  invisible.  All  this,  and  more  than  this, 
was  known  to  Hezekiah.  The  book  of  his  God  told 
how  Enoch,  the  holiest  of  men,  was  taken  away  ''  in 
the  meridian  of  his  days,^'  not  because  he  displeased, 
but  because  he  pleased,  God.  And  he  was  taken 
away,  surely,  not  to  dwell  in  a  land  of  darkness,  not 
to  be  a  shade  in  the  land  of  shades,  not  to  sleep  in  a 
state  of  unconsciousness,  but  still  to  serve  and  still 
to  enjoy  the  God  he  had  honoured  on  earth.  His 
translation  was  not  a  punishment,  but  a  reward ;  and 
the  inference  was  not  far  to  seek,  that  the  state  into 
which  he  went  was  better  than  that  from  which  he 
was  taken.  Hezekiah  knew  it,  and  believed  it;  but 
for  the  moment  he  forgot  it — his  heart  forgot  it :  he 
looked  only  at  the  things  which  are  seen  and  temporal. 
The  darkness  of  the  grave  filled  the  whole  horizon 
around  him,  and  intercepted  his  vision,  so  that  he 
could  see,  he  could  realize  nothing  beyond. 

We  must  say,  that  this  state  of  mind  was  unworthy 
of  him.  It  is  not  to  be  explained  by  the  comparative 
obscurity  which  in  his  day  hung  over  the  doctrine  of 
a  future  state.     Even  now  that  Christ  has  brought  life 

and   incorruptiou   forth   into  the   very   effulgence   of 

22^ 


258  CONFLICT    WITH    DESrONDENCY. 

noonday,  we  find  many  a  heart  breaking  and  moaning 
as  did  Hezekiah's ;  we  find  many  a  poet  pouring  forth 
similar  strains,  and  describing  the  grave  and  the 
dreariness  beyond,  as  if  they  had  never  heard  of  a 
blessed  heaven,  where,  in  the  language  of  a  poem  with 
which  Hezekiah  was  as  familiar  as  we  are,  there  is 
fulness  of  joy,  and  where  there  are  pleasures  for  ever- 
more. The  despondency  of  the  king  of  Judah  was 
produced  not  by  a  want  of  knowledge,  but  by  a  want 
of  faith.  Not,  indeed,  that  he  had  no  faith  in  the 
better  country  which  Abraham  had  looked  for  and 
long  since  reached,  but  his  faith  sank  in  its  weakness 
beneath  his  sorrows,  instead  of  in  its  strength  sus- 
taining him  under  them ;  its  eye  was  so  dimmed 
with  weeping,  that  it  could  not  see  the  land  that  was 
afar  off.  He  looked  at  death  only  from  its  earthly 
side,  and,  regarded  exclusively  from  this  side,  it  was 
dark  indeed. 

Through  the  same  earthly-sided  view  of  the  events 
of  life,  Christians  are  often  covered  with  gloom,  and 
yield  themselves  up  to  doubting  thoughts  and  de- 
spondent feelings.  They  forget  for  a  time  the  first 
principles  of  their  own  faith,  and  interpret  events  in 
the  light  of  a  present  existence  only.  So  interpreted, 
they  are  perplexing  and  unintelligible.  But  let  us 
remember  our  own  belief,  that,  beyond  the  threescore 
years  and  ten  of  the  present,  there  are  endless  cycles 
of  ages  in  another  state,  the  certain  inheritance  of 
these  spirits  of  ours,  and  the  mystery  is  dispelled. 
"  Preaching  would  kill  me  in  three  months,"  said 
young  Martin  Luther  to  the  superior  of  his  order, 
when  he  was  urging  him  to  engage  in  this  holy  work. 
*'  What  then  !"  was  the  reply  ;  "  do  you  not  think 
that  God  needs  servants  in  heaven  ?"     When  we  are 


DOUBTING    CASTLE.  259 

stunned  by  the  sudden  and  early  death  of  men  gifted 
with  power  to  bless  their  generation,  and  these  cut 
down  when  their  gifts  and  graces  have  reached  maturity, 
and  are  most  wholly  consecrated  to  the  world's  and  the 
church's  good,  let  us  not  forget  that,  like  Enoch,  they 
have  only  been  taken  to  occupy  a  higher  sphere.  Man 
has  been  "  made  in  vain,"  if  made  for  this  life  only  : 
his  many  and  mighty  gifts  must  be  regarded  as  a  waste 
of  creative  expenditure,  if  they  perish  with  the  body. 
Ephemera  may  be  born  for  a  day  ;  their  capacity  is 
equalled  by  their  brief  life.  But  when  a  man,  gifted 
with  the  power  of  climbing  the  heights,  and  enjoying  the 
beatitudes  of  spiritual  existence,  is  suddenly  deprived 
of  life,  while  yet  he  has  only  entered  on  his  upward 
course,  we  naturally  seek  a  solution  of  the  mystery  in 
the  continuance  of  his  existence  in  another  state. 

In  the  experience  of  Christian  and  Hopeful  in  the 
grounds  and  castle  of  Giant  Despair,  both  these  causes 
of  despondency  are  seen  to  operate — the  conscious- 
ness of  sin,  and  the  temporary  forgetfulness  of  known 
truth.  After  a  season  of  great  delight  on  the  banks 
of  the  river  of  God,  the  pilgrims  found  their  way- 
rough,  and  their  feet  suffered  by  reason  of  their 
travels.  They  were  thus  tempted  to  turn  aside  into 
a  road  which  seemed  to  run  alongside  the  high- 
way, only  free  from  its  hot  dust  and  rough  stones. 
Soon,  however,  they  found  this  bypath  diverging 
they  knew  not  whither,  and  they  adventured  to 
return.  But  darkness  overtook  them ;  and  when 
morning  dawned,  they  were  found  by  Giant  Despair 
asleep  in  his  grounds,  and  were  cast  into  a  very  dark 
dungeon,  where  they  lay  "  from  Wednesday  morning 
till  Saturday  night,''  without  food,  or  drink,  or  light. 


260  CONFLICT    WITH    DESPONDENCY. 

During  this  period  they  were  subjected  to  great 
sufiering  by  the  grim  owner  of  Doubting  Castle. 
But  on  Saturday,  about  midnight,  they  began  to  pray, 
and  continued  in  prayer  to  almost  break  of  day. 
"  Now  a  little  before  it  was  day,  good  Christian,  as 
one  half  amazed,  brake  out  in  this  passionate  speech  : 
'  What  a  fool,'  quoth  he,  '  am  I,  thus  to  lie  in  a  stinking 
dungeon,  when  I  may  as  well  walk  at  liberty  !  I  have 
a  key  in  my  bosom,  called  Promise,  that  will,  I  am 
persuaded,  open  any  lock  in  Doubting  Castle/  Then 
said  Hopeful,  '  That's  good  news,  good  brother;  pluck 
it  out  of  thy  bosom  and  try/ 

"Then  Christian  pulled  it  out  of  his  bosom,  and 
began  to  try  at  the  dungeon  door ;  whose  bolt,  as  he 
turned  the  key,  gave  back,  and  the  door  flew  open 
with  ease,  and  Christian  and  Hopeful  both  came  out. 
Then  he  went  to  the  outer  door  that  leads  into  the 
castle  yard,  and  with  this  key  opened  that  door  also. 
After,  he  went  to  the  iron  gate — for  that  must  be 
opened  too — but  that  lock  went  extremely  hard,  yet 
the  key  did  open  it.  Then  they  burst  open  the  gate, 
to  make  their  escape  with  speed.  But  that  gate,  as  it 
opened,  made  such  a  creaking,  that  it  waked  Giant 
Despair,  who,  hastily  rising  to  pursue  his  prisoners, 
felt  his  limbs  to  fail,  so  that  he  could  by  no  means  go 
after  them.  Then  they  went  on  and  came  to  the 
king's  highway  again,  and  so  were  safe,  because  they 
were  out  of  his  jurisdiction. 

"  Now  when  they  were  gone  over  the  stile,  they 
began  to  contrive  with  themselves  what  they  should 
do  at  that  stile  to  prevent  those  that  should  come 
after  from  falling  into  the  hand  of  Giant  Despair. 
So  they  consented  to  erect  there  a  pillar,  and  to 
engrave  on  the  side   thereof,  ^  Over  this  stile  is  the 


HOW    DECLENSION    BEGINS.  261 

way  to  Doubting  Castle,  which  is  kept  by  Giant  Des- 
pair, who  despiseth  the  king  of  the  celestial  country, 
and  seeks  to  destroy  his  holy  pilgrims.'  Many  there- 
I'ore  that  followed  after  read  what  was  written,  and 
escaped  the  danger." 

The  danger  was  indeed  great.  It  was  not  by  an 
enormity,  like  the  sin  of  David  or  of  Peter,  that  Flope- 
ful  and  Christian  were  brought  into  misery.  It  was 
by  a  departure  from  the  way  of  duty,  imperceptible 
to  the  world,  and  almost  imperceptible  to  themselves, 
that  they  passed  into  the  grounds  of  Giant  Despair. 
*'  So  deceitful  are  the  ways  of  sin,  that  the  first 
steps  of  travel  in  them  seemed  to  these  pilgrims 
but  as  an  indulgence  to  wearied,  sorefooted  virtue.'' 
But  when  a  man  refuses  to  undergo  such  labour  and 
sufi"ering  for  Christ  as  lie  in  the  way  of  his  duty,  he 
will  have  to  suffer  far  more  inwardly  than  he  ever 
could  have  done  outwardly.  Yet  we  often  forget 
when  hardness  comes,  that  our  business  is  to  endure 
hardness  as  good  soldiers  of  Jesus  Christ.  "  The 
pilgrims  seem  to  have  forgotten  this  for  a  season,  and 
to  have  expected  nothing  but  enjoyment  all  the  rest 
of  the  way.  But  thfe  river  and  the  way  for  a  time 
parted,  and  the  way  was  rough  ;  so  still,  as  they 
went,  they  wished  for  a  better.  Here  were  the  first 
beginnings  of  discontent,  and  they  ought  to  have 
repressed  them.  They  should  have  said.  It  is  true 
this  way  is  not  so  pleasant  as  the  meadow,  but  it  is 
the  Lord's  way,  and  the  best,  doubtless,  for  us  to 
travel  in  :  these  trials  are  of  God's  making  for  us, 
and  they  come  in  the  way  of  our  duty  ;  so  we  must 
still  go  on,  and  be  thankful.  But  they  said,  '  How 
very  rough  is  the  way,  how  painful,  how  fatiguing  ! 
I  wish  there  were  a  better  way ;  can  we  find  an  easier 


262       CONFLICT  WITH  DESPONDENCY. 

way  V  When  Christians  thus  allow  themselves  to 
wish  for  a  better  way  than  the  way  of  God's  appoiut- 
nient,  Satan  is  generally  at  hand  to  point  out  some 
way  that  seems  easier  and  better,  and  to  tempt  the 
soul  to  wander  in  it.  A  man  speedily  enters  into 
temptation  when  he  becomes  discontented  with  God's 
allotments :  then  Satan  presents  allurements ;  and 
from  wishing  for  a  better  way,  the  soul  goes  into  a 
worse.  The  discontented  wish  is  father  to  a  sinful 
will.  /  wish  for  a  better  is  followed  by  I  will  have  a 
better ;  and  so  the  soul  goes  astray." 

On  discovering  their  position,  the  pilgrims  judged 
rightly  that  it  was  their  immediate  duty  to  return  to 
the  highway  which  they  had  forsaken.  But  they 
found  themselves  encompassed  with  difficulty,  and 
were  content  to  enjoy  "  a  little  shelter"  on  their  way 
back,  resting  in  something  short  of  an  unreserved 
confession  of  their  sin,  and  a  believing  application  to 
the  blood  which  cleanseth  from  all  sin.  This  delay, 
this  trust  in  something  else  than  the  promise  of  for- 
giveness through  Jesus  Christ,  only  added  to  their 
sorrows.  And  that  which  availed  them  at  last — the 
key  of  promise — was  in  their  •possession  all  along, 
forgotten  and  unused.  The  ''joy  of  God's  salvation" 
was  "  restored"  to  them  immediately  on  their  looking 
with  contrition  and  faith  to  the  Lamb  of  God. 

The  neglect  of  duty  is  perhaps  as  prevalent  an  occa- 
sion of  despondency  as  the  commission  of  sin  ;  and  it 
operates  in  two  ways.  (1.)  It  clouds  the  conscience 
and  oppresses  the  heart  by  secret  misgivings  and 
inward  conflicts.  The  Christian's  peace  cannot  "  flow 
as  a  river,"  when  at  every  step  it  is  marred  by  doubts 
as   to    the   riirhtness    of    his    conduct.      The  ''  with- 


ANDREW    FULLER   AND   IITS   CHURCH.  263 

holding"  from  the  service  of  Christ,  "more  than  is 
meet/'  of  that  property  which  God  has  bestowed  on 
him ;  the  restraining  of  labour  and  prayer,  by  which 
the  kingdom  of  Christ  might  be  advanced  in  the 
world;  the  omission  of  duty  in  any  department  of  the 
Christian's  life  must  be  as  a  cankerworm  at  the  root 
of  his  happiness.  (2.)  Besides,  spiritual  exercise  is 
as  essential  to  spiritual  health  and  enjoyment  as 
physical  exercise  is  to  bodily  strength  and  comfort. 
And  the  neglect  of  duty  is  the  neglect  of  spiritual 
exercise. 

It  is  told  of  the  Rev.  Andrew  Fuller  that  for  years 
he  preached  comfort  to  the  church  of  which  he  was 
pastor,  but  no  comfort  came.  They  sought  it  earnestly, 
but  did  not  find  it.  They  drooped  and  mourned  while 
taught  and  watched  over  by  a  man  of  eminent  piety. 
But,  when  they  began  to  icork, — to  work  for  Christ,  in 
connection  especially  with  the  then  infant  mission  to 
the  heathen,  that  which  eluded  their  grasp  before 
came  unsought.  They  became  happy  in  their  faith, 
in  acting  out  their  faith's  first  principles.  The  ex- 
perience of  the  pastor  seems  to  have  much  resembled 
that  of  the  flock.  "  My  engagement  in  the  mission 
undertaking,"  he  wrote  to  a  friend,  "  had  a  wonderful 
influence  in  reviving  true  religion  in  my  soul  ;  and 
from  that  time,  notwithstanding  all  my  family  afflic- 
tions, I  have  been  one  of  the  happiest  of  men.  *  Then 
shall  I  run,'  said  the  psalmist,  <  in  the  way  of  thy 
commandments,  when  thou  shalt  enlarge  my  heart/ 
And  truly  I  know  of  nothing  which  has  so  enlarged 
my  heart  as  engaging  in  a  work  the  object  of  which 
is  the  salvation  of  the  world.  I  have  often  observed 
that  many  good  people  miss  their  objects,  and  live  in 
doubt   about   their   own   Christianity  all   their    days, 


264  CONFLICT   WITH    DESrONDENCY. 

because  tliey  make  this  their  direct  and  principal 
object  of  pursuit.  They  read,  hear,  meditate — every- 
thing, in  order  to  find  out  whether  they  he  Christians. 
Let  them  but  seek  the  glory  of  Christ's  kingdom, 
the  spread  of  his  cause,  etc.,  and  a  knowledge  of  their 
own  interest  in  it  would  be  amongst  the  things  which 
would  be  '  added  unto  them.'  If  we  are  so  selfish  as  to 
care  about  nothing  but  our  own  individual  safety,  God 
will  righteously  so  order  it  that  we  shall  not  obtain 
our  desire,  but  shall  live  in  suspense  oa  that  subject; 
while  if  we  had  served  him,  and  sought  his  glory,  and 
the  good  of  others'  souls  as  well  as  our  own,  our  owa 
safety  would  have  appeared  manifest.  It  is  thus  that 
God  interweaves  the  good  of  his  creatures  ;  ordering 
it  so  that  the  happiness  of  one  part  shall  arise  from 
their  pursuing  that  of  another,  rather  than  from  a  direct 
pursuit  of  their  own.  It  is  thus  in  domestic  felicity, 
and  thus  in  religion.  Blessed  be  God  for  thus  en- 
couraging a  principle  which,  if  it  did  but  universally 
prevail,  would  be  productive  of  universal  peace  and 
happiness.  'God  is  love;  and  he  that  dwelleth  in 
love  dwelleth  in  God,  and  God  in  him.'  " 

"There  may  be  a  great  deal  of  backsliding  in  heart 
— of  encroaching  worldliness — of  declension  in  spirit- 
uality of  mind  and  in  the  life  and  energy  of  vital 
godliness — where  there  are  no  flagrant  outbreakings 
of  sin  in  the  conduct.  This  state  may  arise,  amongst 
other  causes  of  it,  from  the  prosperity  of  this  life — ■ 
the  world  gaining  ground  in  the  affections,  and  God 
losing  it.  There  is  then  a  declension  in  love  ; 
and,  as  it  is  love  that  *  casts  out  fear/  we  need  not 
wonder  that  fear  should  find  entrance,  as  love  declines. 
The  heart  is  no  longer  '  right  with  God,'  but  halting 
and  hesitating  between  him  and  rivals.     The  world 


DECLENSION    IN    LOVE.  265 

and  mammon  contest  the  ascendency  with  him — 
things  seen  wiih  things  unseen — earth  with  heaven. 
The  word  of  God  and  secret  prayer  are  neglected ;  or 
the  one  is  read  with  carelessness  and  irregularity,  and 
the  other  performed  with  cold  formality  and  frequent 
omission  on  trivial  grounds.  '  The  cares  of  this  life, 
and  the  deceitfulness  of  riches,  and  the  lusts  of  other 
things  have  entered  in/  the  word  is  in  danger  of 
being  '  choked  and  rendered  unfruitful.'  The  man 
continues  honest  and  industrious,  and  chargeable  with 
no  immorality — no  breach  of  honour  or  of  faith — in  the 
transaction  of  his  worldly  affairs;  and  he  still  appears 
in  his  place,  with  at  least  almost  wonted  punctuality, 
in  the  house  of  God.  He  is  '  not  slothful  in  busi- 
ness ;'  but  he  is  no  longer  what  he  once  was — '  fervent 
in  spirit,  serving  the  Lord.'  The  energy  of  religious 
principle  is  relaxed ;  the  warmth  of  religious  feeling 
has  cooled;  the  pleasure  of  religious  worship  is 
abated ;  the  cheerful  activity  of  religious  zeal  is 
paralysed  ;  and  the  open-handed  readiness  of  religious 
charity  is  grudgingly  restrained.  His  conscience  tells 
him  all  this.  He  tries  in  vain  to  keep  it  quiet.  He 
endeavours  to  persuade  himself  that  he  is  only  more 
rationally  and  soberly  religious  than  he  was ;  that  he 
has  renounced  no  article  of  faith  ;  and  that,  in  the 
circumstances  in  which  Providence  has  placed  him, 
a  little  more  conformity  to  the  world  has  become 
unavoidable,  and  even  in  some  degree,  he  is  inclined 
to  think,  a  duty — to  take  off  the  offensiveness  of 
religion  in  his  own  circle,  and  prevent  his  'good  from 
being  evil  spoken  of.'  But,  in  spite  of  all  the 
sophistry  by  which  he  tries  to  keep  on  good  terms 
with  himself,  he  is  ill  at  ease.  He  hears  the  voice  of 
his  Lord  saying,  '  I  have  against  thee,  that  thou  hast 
23 


266  CONFLICT   WITH   DESPONDENCY. 

left  thy  first  love;' and  he  is  filled  with  disquieting 
self-reproaches  and  tormenting  fears.  If  the  world 
succeed  in  subduing  and  silencing  these,  his  danger  is 
indeed  imminent.  His  apprehensions  are  well  founded 
and  salutary.  What,  then,  is  the  efi"ect  they  should 
have?  How  are  they  to  be  satisfactorily  quieted, 
and  true  peace  to  be  restored  to  the  soul  ?  In  one 
way  only.  He  must  return  to  his  first  love.  That 
love  alone  will  cast  them  out.  God  must  resume  the 
place  in  the  heart,  from  which  he  has  been  unworthily 
deposed."* 

In  tlie  personal  afflictions  of  life  we  find  another 
common  occasion  of  despondency.  It  was  when  driven 
from  Jerusalem  by  the  unnatural  rebellion  of  his  son 
Absalom,  that  David  wrote  the  plaintive  strains  of  the 
forty-second  and  forty-third  Psalms.  ''  My  tears  have 
been  my  meat  day  and  night,  while  they  continually 
say  unto  me.  Where  is  thy  God  V  But  there  was 
no  despair  in  his  sorrow ;  there  was  hope  blended 
with  his  grief. 

"  I  will  say  unto  God,  my  rock,  Why  hast  thou  forgotten  me? 
Why  go  I  mourning  because  of  the  oppression  of  the  enemy? 
As  with  a  sword  in  my  bones,  mine  enemies  reproach  me; 
While  they  say  unto  me  daily.  Where  is  thy  God  ? 
Why  art  thou  cast  down,  0  my  soul  ? 
And  why  art  thou  disquieted  within  me  ? 
Hope  thou  in  God:  for  I  shall  yet  praise  him, 
Who  is  the  health  of  my  countenance,  and  my  God." 

The  seventy-seventh  Psalm  is  written  in  a  tone  of 
deeper  melancholy.  Its  author,  for  a  time,  "  refused 
to  be  comforted."  He  turned  away  every  topic  of 
consolation,  as  if  in  love  with  misery.  The  ''  remem- 
brance" of  God  only  increased  his  trouble.  The 
night — the  season  of  repose — brought  him  no  relief; 

*  Dr.  Wardlaw  :  Sermons,  1829. 


JOB    IN    DESPONDENCY.  267 

his  eyes  were  quenched  with  incessant  weeping. 
But  we  find  him  at  last  stretching  out  his  hand  and 
laying  hold  of  the  divine  strength. 

The  language  used  by  the  "  patient"  Job,  on  one 
occasion,  and  the  feelings  which  prompted  it,  are 
very  instructive.  "  Oh  !  that  I  knew  where  I  might 
find  Him  !"*  he  said,  in  the  anguish  of  his  heart. 
Miserable  comforters  were  his  three  friends  who  came 
to  condole  with  him  on  his  varied  and  crushing  afflic- 
tions. Their  accusations  formed  the  bitterest  portions 
of  the  cup  which  he  had  to  drink.  He  could  bear 
much  ;  he  had  borne  much,  and  had  said,  "  The  Lord 
gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away  ',  blessed  be  the 
name  of  the  Lord.  Shall  we  receive  good  at  the  hand 
of  the  Lord,  and  shall  we  not  receive  evil  ?"•)"  And 
"  at  the  hand  of  the  Lord,"  he  was  prepared  to  "  re- 
ceive" still  more  of  such  evil.  '^  Though  he  slay  me, 
yet  will  I  trust  in  him. "J  But  the  denial  of  his 
sincerity,  the  charge  of  hidden,  aggravated  wickedness, 
he  could  not  bear.  "  To-day  is  my  complaint  bitter: 
my  stroke  is  heavier  than  my  groaning. "§  As  if  he  said, 
— My  sighs  may  be  deep,  but  they  bear  no  proportion 
to  my  suflFerings.  Oh  !  that  I  knew  where  I  might 
find  God  ;  that  I  might  come  even  to  his  tribunal  !  I 
would  order  my  cause  before  him,  and  fill  my  mouth 
with  arguments — arguments  drawn  from  my  secret  as 
well  as  my  public  life.  I  would  know  the  words  which 
he  would  answer  me,  and  would  understand  what  he 
would  say  unto  me.  God's  judgment  would  be  very 
different  from  that  of  my  friends.  Will  he  plead 
against  me  with  his  great  power  ?  Will  he  make  use 
of  his  power  to  overwhelm  and  confound  me  ?     Will 

*  Job  xxiii.  3.  t  Job  i.  21  ;  ii.  10. 

JJobxiii.  15.  gJob  xxiii.  2. 


268       CONFLICT  WITH  DESPONDENCY. 

he  take  advantage  of  omnipotence  to  triumph  over 
me?  No;  but  he  would  put  strength  in  me.  Dust 
and  ashes  though  I  be,  he  would  enable  me  to  set 
forth  my  cause  before  him.  He  would  not  awe  me  by 
his  dread  majesty,  but  strengthen  me  by  his  mercy. 
There,  in  his  presence,  the  righteous  man,  conscious 
of  his  integrity,  might  argue  his  case  before  him. 
Then  should  I  be  delivered  for  ever  from  those  who 
would  condemn  me.  But  I  know  not  where  to  find 
him.  I  cannot  bring  my  cause  to  his  throne.  I  turn 
myself  to  all  parts  of  the  heavens,  but  I  see  him  not, 
and  hear  him  not.  I  turn  me  to  the  east,  toward  the 
rising  sun.  I  see  there  the  glories  of  his  creation  ; 
but  HE  is  not  there.  Disappointed,  I  turn  me  to  the 
west,  and  watch  the  setting  sun,  and  hope,  as  his  last 
beams  fade  from  my  view,  that  God  will  reveal  himself 
to  me.  But  I  perceive  him  not ;  there  are  no  indi- 
cations of  his  presence  coming  forth,  that  I  may  argue 
my  case  before  him  ;  and  my  soul,  like  the  world,  is 
left  in  darkness.  1  turn  me  to  the  north,  where  God 
*'  doth  work  ;"  where  brilliant  lights  do  play  and  shine, 
rivalling  the  glories  of  the  rising  and  setting  sun ; 
but  these  lights  are  cold  and  chilly,  and  reveal  no 
God  to  my  soul.  To  the  south  I  turn  me  at  the  last; 
but  in  the  burning  and  impassable  wastes,  and  in  the 
unknown  seas  that  stretch  out  there,  God  hideth  him- 
self, that  I  cannot  see  him.  I  have  searched  the  hea- 
vens round,  but  I  cannot  find  Him  before  whose  throne 
I  would  plead  my  cause,  and  whose  judgment  on  my 
case  I  desire  to  hear. 

What,  then,  should  Job  do?  Lie  down  and  despair, 
to  be  crushed  beneath  the  iron  wheels  of  a  resistless 
fate?  No,  no.  He  holds  fast  his  confidence  in  God 
and  in  his  own  integrity."     ''  God  knoweth  the  way 


GOD    NEAR    TO    JOB.  269 

that  I  take,  though  I  cannot  see  him.  He  sees  me  ; 
and,  however  men  may  misunderstand  my  character, 
he  does  not.  When  he  hath  tried  me,  I  shall  come 
forth  as  gold  that  hath  been  tested  in  the  crucible,  and 
that  comes  out  the  more  pure  the  intenser  the  heat 
has  been.  My  foot  hath  held  his  steps  3  his  way  have 
I  kept  and  not  declined ;  neither  have  I  gone  back 
from  the  commandment  of  his  lips.  I  have  esteemed 
the  words  of  his  mouth  more  than  my  necessary 
food.'' 

It  will  be  seen  that  at  the  very  time  Job  was  saying, 
"■  Oh  !  that  I  knew  where  I  might  find  him,"  God  was 
very  near  to  him.  He  needed  not  to  be  sought  in  the 
east  or  west,  or  north  or  south.  He  was  there,  watch- 
ing the  furnace  into  which  he  had  placed  his  servant, 
hearing  his  words  and  the  words  of  his  friends ; 
weighing  them  all,  and  prepared,  at  the  fitting  time, 
to  manifest  himself,  and  pronounce  his  own  infallible 
judgment.  It  will  be  seen,  too,  that  Job  knew  all 
this  at  the  very  time ;  that  when  he  was  saying,  "  Oh  ! 
that  I  knew  where  I  might  find  him,"  he  still  had  faith 
that  God  was  with  him,  knowing  his  path,  and  testing 
his  character  as  in  a  furnace.  These  two  states  of 
mind — the  desire  to  find  God,  and  the  confidence 
which  he  had  in  God's  present  superintendence  of  this 
whole  trial  which  he  was  enduring — may  seem  incon- 
sistent with  each  other.  But  they  are  not  so  ;  for  his 
language  was  not  that  of  unbelief,  but  of  impatience. 
Stung  by  the  accusations  of  his  friends,  he  would  that 
God  should  now,  at  once,  arbitrate  between  them. 
This  was  his  infirmity.  His  faith  might  have  taught 
him  to  say,  as  one  did  in  a  later  age,  "  My  soul 
trusteth  in  thee  :  yea,  in  the  shadow  of  thy  wings  will 

I  make  my  refuge,  until  these  calamities  be  overpast. 

23* 


270  CONFLICT    WITH   DESPONDENCY. 

I  will  cry  unto  God  most  high  ;  unto  God  that  per- 
formeth  all  things  for  me.  He  shall  send  from  heaven, 
and  save  me  from  the  reproach  of  him  that  would 
swallow  me  up."  *  And  another  :  "  I  will  look  unto 
the  Lord;  I  will  wait  for  the  God  of  my  salvation  : 
my  God  will  hear  me.  Eejoice  not  against  me,  0 
mine  enemy :  when  I  fall,  I  shall  arise  ;  when  I  sit  in 
darkness,  the  Lord  shall  be  a  light  unto  me.  I  will 
bear  the  indignation  of  the  Lord,  because  I  have 
sinned  against  him,  until  he  plead  my  cause,  and 
execute  judgment  for  me  :  he  will  bring  me  forth  to 
the  light,  and  I  shall  behold  his  righteousness."  f  If 
Job  had  acted  in  the  spirit  of  these  words,  he  would 
have  found  that  "  it  is  good  that  a  man  should  both 
hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the  salvation  of  the 
Lord."  X 

"  If  the  great  condition  of  spiritual  vitality  be  the 
union  of  the  soul  in  time  with  the  Lord  of  eternity, — 
if  the  nature  of  that  union  must  mainly  consist,  on 
the  part  of  the  disciple,  in  humble  and  confiding 
trust, — is  it  not  among  the  first  requisites  of  the 
religious  life  that  every  obstacle  should  be  cleared 
away  which  may  prevent  in  the  heart  the  full  forma- 
tion of  that  state  of  humble  dependence  in  which  the 
essence  of  its  blessedness  on  earth  is  comprised  ? 
Now,  affliction  is  the  very  voice  of  God  speaking  to 
the  heart  of  man  its  nothingness.  Sermons  may  fail ; 
but  sorrow  is  more  eloquent  than  sermons.  It  is  not 
the  gospel,  but  it  is  the  herald  of  the  gospel ;"  it  is  the 
very  '  voice  of  him  that  crieth'  in  the  vast '  wilderness' 
of  the  desolated  heart,  '  Prepare  ye  the  way  of  the 
Lord.      Make  straight  in  this  desert  a  highway  for  our 

*  Psalm  Ivii.  1 — 3.        f  Mieuh  vii.  7 — 9.        J  Lameutatious  iii.  2G. 


GOD    WITH    US    IN    AFFLICTION.  271 

God.'  ^  Blessed/  indeed,  '■  are  the  mourners'  to  whom 
their  mourning  has  brought  humiliation," 

The  best  corrective  of  tlie  despondency  which 
arises  from  our  personal  afflictions  is  to  recognize  the 
love  that  administers  them,  and  the  loving  end  for 
which  they  are  sent.  Zion  said,  "  The  Lord  hath  for- 
saken me,  and  my  Lord  hath  forgotten  me."  "  Can  a 
woman  forget  her  sucking  child,  that  she  should  not 
have  compassion  on  the  son  of  her  womb  ?  yea,  they 
may  forget,  yet  will  I  not  forget  thee.  Behold,  I  have 
graven  thee  upon  the  palms  of  my  hands;  thy  walls 
are  continually  before  me."  * 

The  child  of  God  may  be  racked  with  pain,  frowned 
on  by  the  world,  immured  in  the  darkest  cell ;  the 
in  tensest  flame  of  the  martyr's  stake  may  blaze 
around  him ;  he  may  lie  on  the  last  floating  spar 
of  the  wreck  in  which  his  fellows  have  gone  down,  a 
castaway  from  man  and  earthly  hope  ;  he  may  look 
around  in  eager  desire  to  descry  the  approach  of  help, 
and  see  nothing  but  water — water  everywhere ; 
above,  nothing  but  empty  space.  But  that  child  of 
God  is  no  castaway  from  the  care  and  love  of  his 
Father  in  heaven.  The  divine  form  that  bends  over 
him  lovingly  may  be  unseen,  and  the  mystery  of  the 
divine  purpose  which  leaves  him  in  that  peril  may  be 
unknown,  but  God  is  there — there  in  his  watchful 
love — there  as  certainly,  and  with  as  kind  an  intent, 
as  when  he  gathered  around  him  the  smiling  faces  of 
those  loved  ones  who  shall  soon  be  fatherless.  Oh  !  to 
have  it  burnt  into  our  very  souls  or  made  a  part 
of  our  spiritual  being,  that  God  is  ever  with  us, 
acting  a  Father's  part,  exercising  his  own  wise  discre- 
tion   as    to    the    best    means    of    accomplishing    the 

*  Isaiah  xlix.  14—16. 


272       CONFLICT  WITH  DESPONDENCY. 

purposes  of  his  love  !     It  would  make  us  strong,  holy, 
happy. 

In  the  providential  discipline  of  God,  there  is  an 
admixture  of  the  severe  and  the  gentle.  He  comes  to 
us  sometimes  in  the  whirlwind,  and  sometimes  in  the 
still,  small  voice.  He  disturbs  our  quiet,  and  breaks 
our  peace,  that  we  may  remember  that  this  is  not  our 
rest;  he  woos  and  attracts  us  by  his  kindness,  that  we 
may  confide  in  him.  The  hurricane  and  the  zephyr, 
the  storm  and  the  calm,  the  cloud  and  the  sunshine, 
each  has  its  office  to  perform.  It  may  not  be  God's 
will  that  we  should  be  rich;  but  it  is  his  will  that  we 
should  be  holy,  and  that  we  should  live  by  faith,  and 
nut  by  sight.  His  manner  of  leading  us  through  the 
wilderness  is  chosen  in  the  exercise  of  paternal 
wisdom  and  love,  to  bring  this  to  pass.  Every  rude 
wind  that  blows,  every  warm  ray  that  shines,  has  one 
mission.  Whether  we  encamp  by  the  bitter  waters  of 
Marah,  or  by  the  sweet  and  shaded  wells  of  Elim,  it 
is  for  one  end — our  progressive  holiness ;  and  we  may 
feel  assured  that  the  proportions  in  which  the  severe 
and  the  gentle  are  admixed  are  determined  by  infal- 
lible wisdom. 

"  Shall  not  this  knowledge  calm  our  hearts,  and  hid  vain  conflicts  cease? 
Ay,  when  they  commune  with  themselves  in  holy  hours  of  peace  ; 
And  feel  that  by  the  lights  and  clouds  through  which  our  pathway  lies, 
By  the  beauty  aud  the  grief  alike,  we  are  training  for  the  skies." 

Dr.  Cheever  tells  us  that,  when  standing  on  the 
summit  of  a  Swiss  mountain,  it  was  sunshine  all  around 
him,  while  the  valley  beneath  was  covered  with  a  thick 
mist.  He  could  hear  the  chime  of  bells,  the  hum  of 
busy  labour,  and  the  lowing  of  cattle  buried  in  the  mist, 
and  faintly  coming  up  to  him  from  the  fields  and 
villages.     Now  and  then,  a  bird  darted  up  out  of  the 


AN    EMBLEM    OF    EAITH.  273 

mist  into  tlie  clear  sun  and  air,  and  sailed  in  playful 
circles,  and  then  dived  and  disappeared  again  below 
the  surface.  ''The  bird  darting  from  the  mist  into 
the  sunlight,"  said  Dr.  Malan,  to  him  as  he  recounted 
the  experience  of  the  day,  "  is  faith — an  emblem  of 
faith."  "  For,"  says  Dr.  Cheever,  "  so  as  that  soaring 
bird  from  the  earth, when  it  was  dark  and  raining,  flew 
up  and  up,  and  onward,  undiscouraged,  till  heaven  was 
shining  on  her  wings,  and  the  clouds  were  all  below 
her,  and  then  returned — not  to  forget  that  sight,  but  to 
sing  to  her  companions  about  it,  and  to  dwell  upon  it 
till  clear  weather;  so  does  our  faith,  when  all  looks 
dark  and  discouraging  here,  when  within  and  around 
there  is  nothing  but  mist  and  rain,  rise  and  still  rise, 
and  soar  onwards  and  upwards  till  heaven  is  visible, 
and  God  is  shining  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ;  and 
then,  as  it  were,  comes  back  with  glad  tidings  to  tell 
the  soul  to  be  of  good  cheer,  for  that  heaven  is  not  far 
off;  and  to  sing  even  like  the  nightingale,  in  the  dark- 
ness and  the  rain,  for  that  soon  again  there  shall  be 
daybreak  and  fair  weather.  And  the  memory  of  one 
such  view  of  the  gates  of  heaven,  with  the  bright 
Alps  of  truth  glittering  around  you,  is  enough  to 
sustain  the  soul  through  many  a  weary  day  of  her 
pilgrimage.  When  you  see  the  face  of  Christ,  all 
the  darkness  is  forgotten,  and  you  wonder  what  it 
was  you  were  doubting  about,  and  what  it  was 
that  could  have  made  you  so  perplexed  and  de- 
sponding." 

To  thoughtful  and  speculative  minds,  there  is  pro- 
bably no  occasion  of  despondency  so  constant  and 
painful  as  the  disorders  and  irregularities  of  our  fallen 
world.      Of  such  despondency  we  have  a  scriptural 


274  CONFLICT   WITH   DESPONDENCY. 

example  in  the  seventy-third  Psalm.  The  subject  of 
this  affecting  poem  is  the  difl&culty  of  accounting,  on 
the  principles  of  reason,  for  the  unequal  distributions 
of  the  present  state,  in  which  bad  men  are  frequently 
prosperous,  while  men  of  goodness  and  piety  are  often 
distressed  and  afflicted. 

We  learn  from  several  instances  which  are  recorded 
in  the  Scriptures,  that  this  was  a  source  of  extreme 
perplexity  and  trial  in  former  ages.  Nor  is  there 
even  now  any  sufficient  means  of  removing  this  diffi- 
culty, but  that  to  which  the  psalmist  had  recourse, 
and  which  he  derived  from  the  discoveries  of  revela- 
tion. There  is  a  future  state,  a  future  retribution,  in 
the  light  of  which  it  is  seen  that  prosperity  is  not  in 
itself  any  proof  of  the  divine  approbation  nor  ad- 
versity any  proof  of  divine  displeasure ;  and  in  the 
light  of  which  the  servants  of  God,  notwithstanding 
all  their  sufferings,  are  enabled  to  rest  in  the  con- 
clusion that  "  God  is  good  to  Israel.'' 

A  present  state  of  rewards  and  punishments,  pro- 
portioned to  merit  and  demerit,  will  be  found  on 
reflection,  to  be  an  impossibility.  *'  Such  is  the 
condition  of  human  life,  such  are  the  connections  and 
relations  subsisting  between  the  righteous  and  the 
wicked,  that  the  one  could  not  be  exclusively 
punished,  and  the  other  exclusively  rewarded.  Were 
God,  for  example,  to  bless  the  fields  of  the  righteous 
with  a  supernatural  abundance,  the  wicked  would 
still  share  in  the  benefit ;  and  were  he  to  smite  with 
mildew  the  fields  of  the  wicked,  society  in  general 
would  suffer  by  the  infliction  ;  so  that  a  second  set 
of  miracles  would  be  necessary  to  rectify  the  incon- 
veniences of  the  first;  and  the  divine  government, 
instead  of  advancing  with   steady  and  dignified  step 


ORIGIN    OF   EVIL.  275 

towards  the  accomplishment  of  its  objects,  would 
present  a  series  of  broken  and  almost  ineffectual 
movements."* 

The  fountain  of  all  difficulties,  like  those  of  the 
author  of  the  seventy-third  Psalm,  is  the  origin  of 
sin,  and  the  consequent  overflow  of  wickedness  and 
suffering  over  the  earth.  All  minor  perplexities  are 
lost  and  absorbed  in  this  greater  mystery ;  and,  could 
we  fathom  this,  we  should  find  no  other  depth  too 
great  for  us.  But  we  cannot.  Men  have  laboured 
in  vain,  and  spent  their  strength  for  naught,  in  the 
endeavour.  And  this  unpenetrated,  undispelled  dark- 
ness hangs  over  many  spirits,  involving  them  in  per- 
petual doubt  and  sadness. 

How  shall  we  help  ourselves  in  this  matter  ? 
Not,  assuredly,  by  any  fresh  attempt  to  solve  the 
mystery,  but  by  an  increase  of  "  faith  in  God/'  And 
there  are  grounds  that  will  justify  a  faith  and  trust 
in  God  which  will  raise  the  soul  into  a  region  of 
unclouded  light.  For  example,  let  us  set  before  our- 
selves the  positive  evidences  which  are  within  our 
reach,  of  the  perfect  holiness  of  God ;  and  when  we 
have  got  fast  hold  of  this  one  truth,  let  us  follow 
it  in  its  bearing  on  the  existing  condition  of  the 
world.  These  evidences  are  many  and  varied.  Every- 
thing that  goes  to  prove  the  Bible  to  be  of  God  is 
indirectly  an  evidence  of  the  divine  holiness;  for  the 
Bible  is  full  of  this  blessed  doctrine.  It  not  only  sets 
it  forth  as  one  of  many  divine  attributes,  but  as 
being  the  very  crown  and  beauty  and  glory  of  them 
all.  It  is  the  glory  of  God's  power  that  it  is  a  holy 
power,  of  his  wisdom  that  it  is  a  holy  wisdom,  of  his 

*  Fleming's  "  Plea  for  the  Ways  of  God  to  Man." 


276  CONFLICT    WITH    DESPONDENCY. 

love  that  it  is  a  holy  love.  And  this  peculiarity  of 
the  Bible  "  image'^  of  God  is  itself  an  unanswerable 
argument  that  the  Bible  is  not  of  the  earth,  or  of  man. 
By  other  lines  of  argument,  likewise,  do  we  reach 
the  conclusion  that  God  is  holy.  We  cannot  other- 
wise interpret  our  own  nature.  Fallen  and  sinful  as 
we  are,  there  is  sufficient  left  of  our  original  constitu- 
tion to  prove  that  he  who  made  us  is  a  holy  God. 
Our  conscience,  with  the  distinction  which  it  makes 
between  right  and  wrong,  and  the  frightful  chastise- 
ments with  which  it  visits  our  wrong  doings,  would  be 
an  inexplicable  mystery  on  any  other  supposition 
than  that  it  has  been  planted  within  us  to  bear 
witness  to  a  holy  God,  and  to  govern  men  according 
to  his  holy  will.  Then  in  the  outside  world,  notwith- 
standing all  its  impurities  and  crimes,  and  all  the  suc- 
cesses which  often  attend  them,  there  is  abundant 
evidence  of  the  presence  of  a  Holy  One  who  still  rules 
among  the  children  of  men,  and  rules  in  righteous- 
ness. The  truth  of  such  divine  sayings  as  these, 
*'  Wisdom's  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,"  "  Light 
is  sown  for  the  righteous,  and  gladness  for  the  upright 
in  heart,"  "  The  way  of  transgressors  is  hard,"  "  Be 
sure  your  sin  will  find  you  out,"  has  been  attested  by 
the  experience  of  all  ages.  And  the  world's  own 
observation  has  originated  many  proverbs  which  echo 
the  same  truth  : — "  Honesty  is  the  best  policy  3" 
"  Honesty  may  be  dear-bought,  but  can  never  be  a 
dear  pennyworth;"  "Virtue  is  its  own  reward;" 
*'  Virtue  and  happiness  are  mother  and  daughter." 
What  are  these  but  witnesses  to  a  law  of  holiness 
which  underlies  the  corruptions  of  the  world,  and 
cannot  be  extinguished  by  them  ?  And  this  is  the 
law  of  God, — like  himself  immutably  holy. 


DIVINE    HOLINESS    AND    LOVE.  277 

Let  us  then  but  get  hold  of  this  one  truth — ''  God 
is  light,  and  in  him  is  no  darkness  at  all" — and  follow 
where  it  will  lead  us,  and  there  is  no  appeal  of  Scrip- 
ture to  which  we  shall  respond  more  heartily  than  that 
of  the  psalmist — "  Rejoice  in  the  Lord,  ye  righteous, 
and  give  thanks  at  the  remembrance  of  his  holiness."* 
So  long  as  we  remember  and  have  faith  in  God's  holi- 
ness, we  are  not  to  be  overwhelmed  by  the  mystery 
of  evil.  True  it  is,  that  the  fact,  the  glorious  and 
unchallengeable  fact,  of  God's  holiness  does  not  ex- 
plain the  mystery,  but  only  deepens  it.  But,  if  held 
fast,  it  will  relieve  our  minds  of  many  saddening  and 
painful  misgivings,  and  enable  us  to  rest  in  the  con- 
viction that,  if  ever  the  solution  shall  be  found,  it 
will  be  found  in  a  Cjuarter  that  shall  not  dim  the 
brightness  or  tarnish  the  honour  of  the  divine 
name. 

To  increase  our  faith  in  God,  the  same  course  of 
argument  should  be  followed  in  regard  to  the  divine 
goodness.  The  positive  evidence  that  God  is  good 
should  be  studied,  and  the  conclusion  to  which  they 
lead  should  be  followed  in  its  bearings  on  the  ex- 
istence of  evil.  Of  these  evidences  we  cannot  attempt 
to  give  even  an  outline  in  this  place.  Of  one  fact 
alone  we  will  remind  the  reader.  *'  God  so  loved  the 
world,  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son,  that  whoso- 
ever believeth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have  ever- 
lasting life."*!"  -^^^  ^^^^  apostolic  inference  from  this 
fact  cannot  be  gainsaid.  '•  He  that  spared  not  his 
own  Son,  but  delivered  him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall  he 
not  with  him  also  freely  give  us  all  things  ?"J  The  in- 
ference may  be  varied  to  our  present  purpose,  and  still 
retain  its  obvious  force  :  "  He  who  so  loved  the  world 

*  Psalm  xcvii.  12.  f  John  iii.  16.  |  Komans  viii.  32. 

24 


278        CONFLICT  WITH  DESPONDENCY. 

that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son  to  save  it — he  who 
spared  not  that  Son  when  he  had  taken  upon  him  the 
form  of  a  servant,  but  delivered  him  to  death  for  us 
all — has  given  therein  the  highest  imaginable  evidence 
of  goodness,  a  goodness  which  could  not  have  been 
wanting  in  the  mysterious  hour  of  the  birth  of  sin,  a 
goodness  that  cannot  fail  now  in  aught  that  wisdom 
and  holiness  approve."  The  conclusion  is  inevitable. 
''  God  is  love" — "  God  is  good.^'  And  more  than 
this,  said  Christ,  "  God  alone  is  good."*  Among  men 
there  is  no  real,  true,  perfect  goodness ;  in  God  there 
is  nothing  but  true,  real,  perfect  goodness.  He  is  the 
only  Potentate,  the  only  wise ;  he  only  hath  immor- 
tality; and  in  the  same  sense  is  he  only  good.  There 
are  other  potentates, — others  are  immortal,  others 
are  wise,  others  too  are  good  ;  but  he  alone  is  mighty, 
immortal,  wise,  and  good — absolutely,  self-existently, 
independently.  This  is  the  idea  which  Christ  gives 
us  of  God.  While  we  are  asking,  sometimes  with  no 
small  solicitude  and  no  small  doubt,  whether  God  is 
good,  he  who  came  to  reveal  God,  who  is  himself  the 
revelation  of  God,  proclaims  not  only  that  he  is  good, 
but  that  he  alone  is  good. 

Let  us  embrace  and  hold  fast  this  truth,  and  while 
it  will  leave  the  history  of  evil  still  unexplained, 
it  will  cast  out  of  our  hearts  those  unbelieving  sur- 
mises which  haunt  us  and  embitter  our  spirits.  It 
will  give  strength  and  buoyancy  to  our  faith  in  God, 
and  help  us  to  dwell  in  a  region  where  we  shall 
breathe  more  freely,  and  run,  with  more  elastic  step, 
in  the  way  of  God's  commandments.  The  positive 
evidences  of  the  divine  holiness  and  of  the  divine 
love  cannot  be  set  aside  by  appearances  or  facts  which 

*  Matthew  xix,  17. 


FAITH   IN    GOD.  27^ 

it  is  beyond  our  power  to  explain.  If  I  have  had  life- 
long evidence  that  my  father  is  a  man  of  integrity 
and  a  man  of  love,  an  integrity  and  a  love  which  have 
been  tested  a  thousand  times,  and  have  always  come 
forth  from  the  trial  with  greater  brightness,  it  does 
not  become  me  to  tremble  for  his  honour  when  cir- 
cumstances occur  which  I  do  not  understand,  and  can- 
not explain.  My  faith  in  him  will  be  unshaken.  I 
will  accept  the  known  as  a  key  to  the  meaning  of  tlie 
unknown.  I  will  hold  fast  my  confidence  that,  when 
the  time  of  revelation  comes,  his  character  will  be 
found  still  radiant  with  light  and  love.  Much  more 
let  me  act  and  feel  thus  in  reference  to  my  heavenly 
Father.  I  am  but  as  a  very  little  child,  who,  at  the 
dawn  of  his  infant  reason,  tries  to  penetrate  the 
thoughts  and  understand  the  doings  of  his  father. 
I  can  think  now  only  as  a  child,  and  speak  only  as 
a  child.  Let  me  then  cultivate  a  child's  humility  and 
a  child's  teachableness,  and  be  content  to  trust  my 
Father  till  I  enter  on  the  manhood  of  my  nature  in  a 
higher  state,  where  that  which  is  perfect  is  come,  and 
that  which  is  in  part  shall  be  done  away. 

"  Be  strong,  be  strong,  nor  fruitlessly  revolve, 
Darkling,  the  riddles  which  you  cannot  solve, 
But  do  the  works  that  unto  you  belong; 
Believing  that  for  every  mystery. 
For  all  the  death,  the  darkness,  and  the  curse 
Of  this  dim  universe. 
Needs  a  solution  full  of  love  must  be ; 
And  that  the  way  whereby  ye  may  attain 
Nearest  to  this,  is  not  through  broodings  vain, 
And  half-rebellious  questionings  of  God, 
But  by  a  patient  Keeking  to  fulfil 
The  purpose  of  his  everlasting  will, 
Treading  the  path  which  lowly  men  have  trod ; 
Since  it  is  ever  they  who  are  too  proud 
For  this,  that  are  the  foremost  and  most  loud 
To  judge  his  hidden  judgments ;  these  are  still 
The  most  perplexed  and  lost  at  his  mysterious  will." 


280  CONFLICT   WITH    DESPONDENCY. 

Shall  we  add  to  these  causes  of  spiritual  despond- 
ency the  sovereign  liiding  of  GocVs  countenance  ?  Is 
it  true  that  "  the  Lord,  on  purpose  to  display  his 
"wisdom  and  sovereignty,  to  try  the  graces  of  his 
people,  to  mortify  their  pride,  and  teach  them  the 
necessity  of  adventuring  as  sinners  to  trust  simply  in 
Christ,''  withdraws  from  them  the  comforts  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  ?  But  what  is  meant  when  it  is  said  that 
God  hides  his  face  in  sovereignty  from  his  people? 
"  It  can  mean  nothing  else,"  says  Dr.  Wardlaw,  '•'  than 
his  withholding  for  a  time  his  grace  and  Spirit.  It  is 
a  believing  view  of  the  divine  character,  as  revealed  in 
Christ,  that  gives  our  minds  peace  and  joy.  It  is 
by  the  Spirit  that  we  are  enabled  to  keep  this  view 
steadily  before  our  minds.  To  be  under  the  hiding 
of  God's  countenance,  therefore,  must  be  to  have  this 
Spirit  so  withheld  from  us,  as  that  our  minds  are 
unable  to  discover  the  view  of  God  which  is  fitted 
to  give  us  peace  and  spiritual  enjoyment.  This,  then, 
is  what  God  is  conceived  to  do  in  sovereignty, — not 
as  the  expression  of  any  particular  displeasure  against 
unbelief  and  sin  prevailing  in  his  people  at  the  time, 
but,  as  it  is  alleged,  for  the  trial  of  their  faith.'' 

*'  Now  here  again  let  us  ask  ourselves,"  con- 
tinues Dr.  Wardlaw,  '^  what,  in  such  circumstances,  is 
meant  by  the  trial  of  faith  ?  To  what  does  such  trial 
amount  ?  It  amounts  to  this — that  a  believer  may  be 
sincerely  seeking  the  Lord,  desirous  to  trust  in  him, 
and  to  rejoice  in  his  name,  and  yet  be  unable  to  find 
him,  to  exercise  confidence,  to  obtain  joy,  to  catch  a 
single  ray  of  the  light  of  his  countenance — he  may 
be  dull,  lifeless,  dark,  despairing;  and  all  this,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  sovereign  witJidraicment  of  the  Divine 
Spirit.     Is  not  there  something  in  this  that  appears  at 


HIDING  OP  god's  countenance.  281 

least  too  analogous  to  caprice  ?  And  is  it  quite  in 
liarmony  with  such  assurances  as  God  gives  his  people 
in  his  word — '  I  said  not  unto  the  seed  of  Jacob,  Seek 
ye  me  in  vain'  ? — and  with  the  many  and  tender 
declarations  of  his  paternal  kindness,  and  backward- 
ness to  afflict  ?  Nay,  more  : — even  the  desire  to  trust 
and  to  rejoice  in  God  must  be  inspired  and  maintained 
by  the  Holy  Spirit.  And,  if  so,  then  the  hypothesis 
sets  before  us  a  child  of  God  labouring  after  the 
gratification  of  a  desire  which  the  Spirit  has  pro- 
duced,— and,  for  want  of  the  further  influence  of  the 
same  Spirit,  labouring  in  vain — incapable  of  attaining 
what  he  sighs  after  and  strives  to  reach  :  that  is,  in 
plain  terms,  we  have  the  Spirit  of  God  tormenting  one 
of  his  children,  by  inspiring  a  desire  which  he  will 
not  satisfy.  Is  such  a  supposition  at  all  consistent 
with  right  views  of  the  all-gracious  character  of  the 
Divine  Father,  and  of  the  kindly  affections  of  his  heart 
towards  his  spiritual  offspring  ?  And,  further  still  : 
it  continues  the  command  of  God  at  all  times,  that 
his  people  should  trust  in  him.  But  trust  cannot  be 
exercised  unless  that  view  of  the  divine  character  be 
discerned  by  the  soul,  which  is  fitted  to  inspire  it. 
Are  we,  then,  to  imagine  the  blessed  God  arbitrarily 
withholding  that  view  from  the  mind,  and  still  com- 
manding the  exercise  of  the  confidence?  Be  it  far 
from  us.  Would  not  this  be  to  liken  him  to  those 
Egyptian  taskmasters,  who  required  the  bricks,  but 
refused  to  furnish  the  straw  ?  There  is  a  manifest 
and  wide  difference  between  this  hypothesis  of  sove- 
reign or  arbitrary  withdrawment,  and  withdrawment 
in  token  of  displeasure  against  sin  and  backsliding, 
whether  in  heart  or  in  life.  When  God  '  hides  his 
face'  on  this  account,  there  is  perfect  righteousness  in 

24* 


282       CONFLICT  WITH  DESPONDENCY. 

the  procedure,  and  perfect  consistency  with  every 
attribute  of  his  character  and  every  intimation  of 
his  word.  God  says  by  his  prophets,  '  Behold,  the 
Lord's  hand  is  not  shortened  that  it  cannot  save; 
neither  his  ear  heavy  that  it  cannot  hear;  but  your 
iniquities  have  separated  between  you  and  your  God  ; 
and  your  sins  have  hid  his  face  from  you,  that  he  will 
not  hear;' — '  When  ye  spread  forth  your  hands,  I  will 
hide  mine  eyes  from  you  :  yea,  when  ye  make  many 
prayers,  I  will  not  hear.  Your  hands  are  full  of 
blood;' — 'Then  shall  they  cry  unto  the  Lord,  but  he 
will  not  hear  them  :  he  will  even  hide  his  face  from 
them  at  that  time,  as  they  have  behaved  themselves 
ill  in  their  doings.'  "* 

The  doctrine  which  is  thus  repudiated  is  often  sup- 
posed to  be  taught  by  Isaiah,  who  says,^  *'  Who  is 
among  you  that  feareth  the  Lord,  that  obeyeth  the 
voice  of  his  servant,  that  walketh  in  darkness,  and 
hath  no  light  ?  Let  him  trust  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord,  and  stay  upon  his  God."  To  "  walk  in  dark- 
ness, and  have  no  light,"  is  supposed  to  mean  to  want 
a  comfortable  sense  of  the  divine  favour  in  the  soul ; 
and  this  is  conceived  to  arise  from  the  sovereign 
hiding  of  God's  countenance,  the  persons  afflicted  by 
it  being  described  as  "fearing  the  Lord,  and  obeying 
the  voice  of  his  word."  Darkness  and  light,  however, 
are  well-known  emblems  of  adversity  and  prosperity, 
of  sorrow  and  joy.  The  whole  chapter  is  a  prophecy 
of  the  sufferings  of  the  promised  Saviour.  And  it  is 
more  than  probable  that  the  tenth  verse  has  a  direct 
and  primary  reference  to  the  state  of  the  minds  of 
the  Lord's  disciples  at  the  time  of  his  death,  and 
in  the  interval  between  his  death    and    resurrection. 

*  Isaiah  lix.  1,  2;  i.  15.    Micali.  iii.  4.  f  Isaiah  1.  10. 


WALKING   IN    DARKNESS.  283 

They  did  indeed  walk  in  darkness,  and  had  no  light. 
It  was  a  time  of  dejection,  perplexity,  and  fear.  And 
in  this  situation,  which  sprang,  after  all,  from  their 
ignorance  and  unbelief,  they  are  admonished  to  "  trust 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  and  to  stay  upon  their  God.'' 
The  scene  would  soon  change,  and  the  darkness  be 
made  light  before  them.  "  You  now  have  sorrow,''  said 
the  Saviour,  on  the  eve  of  his  last  sufferings  3  ''  but  I 
will  see  you  again,  and  your  heart  shall  rejoice,  and 
your  joy  no  man  taketh  from  you."  *  And  it  was  so. 
their  sorrow  was  very  soon  changed  into  joy 

The  -words  of  the  prophet  were  "  applicable,  in 
the  full  spirit  of  them,  to  all  the  circumstances  of 
adversity  wherein  the  people  of  God,  in  the  course 
of  his  providence,  may  be  placed — to  every  season 
in  which  perplexing  dispensations  may  try  their  faith. 
If  everything  in  the  Divine  procedure  were  as  clear  to 
us  as  it  is  to  him — if,  like  him,  we  could  look  through 
all  the  gloomy  and  perplexing  scene,  and  '  see  the 
end  from  the  beginning' — there  would  then  be  no  room 
for  the  exercise  of  trust  :  the  use  of  this  Christian 
grace  would  be  entirely  done  away.  It  is  when  they 
who  '  fear  the  Lord,  and  obey  the  voice  of  his  servant, 
walk  in  the  darkness  and  have  no  light,'  that  they  are 
called  to  '  trust  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  and  to  stay 
upon  their  God.'  This  is  the  very  season  for  confidence." 

Dr.  Wardlaw,  from  whose  judicious  thoughts  on 
this  point  we  have  quoted  so  largely,  concludes  that 
"  the  cause  of  religious  despondency,  with  all  its 
distracting  doubts  and  fears,  is,  in  every  instance, 
though  with  many  varieties,  to  be  found,  not  in  the 
gospel,  nor  in  the  sovereignty  of  God,  but  in  the 
believer  himself;  that,  in  all  cases  in  which  it  is  not 

*  See  John  xvi.  19—22. 


284       CONFLICT  WITH  DESPONDENCY. 

the  effect  of  corporeal  or  mental  disease,  its  source  is 
some  form  or  other  of  unbelief  or  sin  ;  that  God  never 
withdraws  from  his  people,  but  when  his  people,  in  life 
or  in  heart,  withdraw  from  him  ;  but  that,  on  the  con- 
trary, he  will  always  delight  to  make  them  happier  in 
the  enjoyment  of  his  love,  in  proportion  as  they  cleave 
to  him  in  faith,  and  '  run  iu  the  way  of  his  command- 
ments/ The  lesson  is  unspeakably  comfortable  and 
pleasing ;  nor  is  it  less  safe  and  salutary  :  and  in  pro- 
portion as  it  is  thus  desirable  that  it  should  be  true, 
must  it  be  satisfactory  to  our  minds  to  find  it  in  har- 
mony with  every  view  given  us,  by  the  inspired  record, 
of  the  character  and  ways  of  God." 

There  are  some  who  will  not  doubt  of  their  state 
before  God,  when  they  ought.  "  No  sentiment  can  be 
more  unscriptural,  more  irrational,  more  shocking, 
than  the  sentiment  that  sin  should  never  make  a 
believer  doubt  of  his  state;  that,  whatever  may  be 
the  evils  into  which  he  falls,  doubts  and  fears  are 
only  additions  to  his  guilt;  that,  all  his  iniquities 
having  been  atoned  for  by  the  blood  of  his  Saviour, 
no  sin,  be  it  ever  so  heinous,  should  at  any  time 
trouble  his  spirit,  or  darken  the  light  of  his  joy. 
This  is  the  most  monstrous  and  miserable  of  all 
delusions.  The  very  end  of  Christ's  coming  was  '  to 
bless  us,  in  turning  away  every  one  of  us  from  our 
iniquities.'  The  very  purpose  for  which  '  he  gave 
himself  was,  to  '  purify  unto  himself  a  peculiar 
people,  zealous  of  good  works.'  To  say,  there- 
fore, that  believers  should  be  equally  confident  of 
their  state,  into  whatever  sins  they  fall,  amounts 
to  saying,  that  they  should  be  equally  assured  of 
their  interest  in  Christ,  whether  this  end  of  his  death 


DOUBTS  AND    FEARS    NOT    NECESSARY.  285 

be  answered  in  them  or  not, — whether  they  be  '  turned 
from  their  iniquities/  whether  they  be  'purified/  and 
*  zealous  of  good  works/  or  not.  The  tendency  of 
all  sin  must  be  to  lead  into  darkness.  The  New 
Testament  Scriptures  assure  us — ^  If  we  confess  our 
sins,  he  is  faithful  and  just  to  forgive  us  our  sins,  and 
to  cleanse  us  from  all  unrighteousness/  a  declaration 
standing  in  close  connection  with  another,  by  which  we 
are  taught  that  conformity  to  God  in  holiness  is  the 
evidence  of  interest  in  his  pardoning  mercy  through 
the  atonement — 'If  we  walk  in  the  light,  as  he  is 
in  the  light,  we  have  fellowship  one  with  another, 
and  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  his  Son  cleanseth  us 
from  all  sin/  "  * 

It  is  an  error  in  an  opposite  direction,  to  main- 
tain that  doubts  and  fears  are  essential  to  a  right  or 
healthy  Christian  experience.  ."  There  are  some  of 
God's  children  who  keep  themselves  in  a  state  of 
incessant  unhappiness  and  gloom,  by  poring  over 
their  sins  and  failings,  and  forgetting  to  connect  this 
with  a  believing  view  of  the  atonement;  ever  lament- 
ing their  own  unworthiness,  without  taking  into  view 
the  worthiness  of  the  Lamb  that  was  slain  ]  looking 
to  themselves,  without  looking  to  Christ.  They  have 
liad  the  notion,  unhappily  introduced  into  their  minds, 
that  doubts  and  fears  constitute  an  almost  essentia] 
part  of  Christian  experience.  Under  this  impression, 
they  rather  cherish  the  gloom.  They  are  unhappy 
with  their  fears,  but  they  would  be  no  less  unhappy 
u-ithout  them;  for  without  them,  they  have  learned 
to  think,  no  exjyerienced  Christian  can  long  remain. 
Such  persons,  too,  are  apt  at  times  to  be  a  little 
uncharitable  in  their  sentiments  of  such  believers  as 

*  1  John  i.  9,  7, 


286  CONFLICT   WITH    DESPONDENCY. 

appear  to  possess  anything  like  unintermitted  enjoy- 
ment. They  regard  them  with  a  mixture  of  envy  and 
suspicion.  They  shake  their  heads,  and  heave  a  sigh, 
and  say,  ^  Oh  !  they  surely  do  not  know  themselves — 
they  must  be  strangers  to  ''  the  plague  of  their  own 
hearts ;''  if  they  were  not,  they  could  not  be  thus 
uniformly  cheerful.'  As  if  there  were  unwarrantable 
presumption  in  having  the  mind  in  that  state  which 
the  gospel,  as  good  news  from  heaven,  is  fitted  to  im- 
part, and  which  it  is  the  very  purpose  of  its  gracious 
Author,  by  means  of  it,  to  produce  and  to  maintain  ; 
and  as  if  doubt  were  an  indispensable  evidence  of 
faith,  fear  a  manifestation  of  hope,  and  depression  and 
melancholy  the  proof  of  an  interest  in  the  '  glad  tidings 
of  great  joy.' 

"  An  exemplification  of  the  justice  of  these  observa- 
tions occurs  in  the  memoir  of  Mrs.  Dr.  Paterson,  of 
St.  Petersburg.  Some  time  after  she  was  brought  to 
the  knowledge  of  Christ,  she  fell  in  with  certain  pro- 
fessors of  the  faith,  who  entertained  suspicions  of  the 
genuineness  of  her  conversion,  on  account  of  the 
uninterrupted  peace  and  joy  experienced  by  her  in 
believing.  In  the  manner  in  which  she  expresses  her- 
self on  the  subject,  there  is  a  beautiful  mixture  of 
humble  self-distrust  and  tranquil  confidence.  'Now 
that  the  Lord  has  in  mercy  opened  my  eyes,  why 
should  I  continue  to  doubt?  Did  I  not  feel  that  in 
myself  I  am  vile,  I  could  have  no  hope  through  Christ. 
But,  since  he  has  graciously  said  he  came  to  save  that 
which  was  lost,  why  should  I  think  he  will  reject  a 
soul  that  evidently  aspires  after  him  ?'  '  It  grieves 
me  when  any  of  the  flock  of  Christ  look  on  me  with 
distrust,  because  my  language  is  too  triumphant  :  yet 
out  of  the  abundance  of  my  heart,  my  mouth  must 


TRUE   RELIGION   LIKE   THE    SUN.  287 

speak/  ^  If  doubts  respecting  my  personal  interest 
in  Christ  are  necessary,  I  beg  you  will  have  the  good- 
ness to  tell  me  so,  that  I  may  pray  to  my  heavenly 
Father  for  them,  who  has  hitherto  bestowed  upon  me 
a  large  supply  of  those  spiritual  blessings,  which  the 
intercession  of  our  great  Advocate  has  procured  for 
guilty  man/  It  is  very  true  that,  as  we  advance  in 
the  divine  life,  our  self-knowledge  increasing  along 
with  our  sensibility  to  the  evil  of  sin,  we  shall  feel  more 
and  more  cause  for  self-distrust  and  self-abhorrence. 
But,  if  our  progress  be  of  the  right  kind,  we  must 
also  proportionally  grow  in  the  knowledge  of  Christ, 
and  in  the  steadfast  fiiith  of  the  divine  dignity  of 
his  person,  the  perfection  of  his  righteousness,  the 
preciousness  of  his  blood,  the  prevalence  of  his  inter- 
cession, the  faithfulness  of  his  promises,  the  fulness 
and  freeness  of  the  grace  of  his  Spirit :  so  that,  while 
the  one  description  of  knowledge  abases,  the  other 
should  sustain,  and  comfort,  and  gladden  us. 

"  True  religion  rectifies,  but  never  disorders ;  en- 
lightens, but  never  darkens  ;  cheers,  but  never  saddens, 
the  soul.  It  can  no  more  be  chargeable  with  melan- 
choly than  the  sun  with  darkness.  It  is  to  the  soul 
what  the  sun  is  to  the  visible  creation — the  source  of 
light,  and  life,  and  purity,  and  joy.  It  has  many  a 
time  been  found  the  most  effectual  antidote  and  cure 
for  melancholy;  never  its  real  cause/' 


We    now    proceed    to    speak    of    the    Christian's 
conflict  with    doubt.     The  line  which 
separates   the  infidel  from  the  believer  conmcl;  w:uh  doubS 
is  strongly  marked ;  but  the  spirit  of 
doubt   passes   over   it,    and   sometimes    harasses   the 


288  CONFLICT    WITH  DOUBT. 

minds  even  of  men  of  strong  faith.  It  pur.sues  not 
so  much  those  who  have  been  turned  from  infidelity, 
as  others  who  have  never  been  sceptics,  and  whose 
hearts  recoil  from  the  idea  of  "  departing  from  the 
living  God."  The  form  which  it  assumes  is  vari- 
ous, deriving  its  hue,  like  the  chameleon,  from  sur- 
rounding objects,  or  finding  a  weapon  of  torment  in  the 
mental  constitution  of  those  whom  it  assails.  Some- 
times it  relates  to  a  single  point  of  Christian  doctrine, 
sometimes  to  the  whole  Christian  scheme,  and  some- 
times to  the  very  foundations  and  essence  of  natural 
religion  itself.  Sometimes  it  is  a  mere  spirit  of  mis- 
chief, sent,  one  may  safely  conclude,  from  hell,  to 
haunt  and  distress  those  whom  it  cannot  move  away 
from  their  loyalty  to  the  Saviour  and  their  zeal  for  his 
glory. 

The  high  position  of  Robert  Hall,  as  a  ^'  defender 

Hobert Hall; born  ^f  the  faith,"  and  an  expounder  of  its 

1764  rS  aWriB^:  highcst  vorities,  is  well  known.  Brought 

tol,  Feb.  21, 1831.  j.i.  rr^i.  x? 

up  under  the  care  ot  a  rather  or  emi- 
nent piety  and  wisdom,  he  seemed  at  least  to  give 
evidence  of  conversion  to  God  in  the  fifteenth  year  of 
his  age.  But,  through  metaphysical  study  and  a  spe- 
culative habit  of  mind,  he  was  for  many  years,  after 
entering  the  ministry,  entangled  with  doubt  and  error 
on  points  of  considerable  importance.  The  brilliancy 
and  force  of  his  eloquence  were  universally  acknow- 
ledged-, but  some  of  his  warmest  and  wisest  friends 
feared  whither  he  was  tending.  "  I  am  a  firm  be- 
liever," he  said,  when  called  to  explain  his  sentiments, 
''  in  the  proper  Divinity  of  Jesus  Christ ;  in  the  merits 
of  Christ  as  the  sole  ground  of  acceptance  in  the 
sight  of  God,  without  admitting  works  to  have  any 


ROBERT    HALL.  289 

sliare  in  the  great  business  of  justification  ;  and  in 
the  necessity  of  divine  influence  to  regenerate  and 
sanctify  the  mind  of  every  man,  in  order  to  his  be- 
coming a  real  Christian."  But,  at  the  same  time,  he 
added,  '*  I  am,  and  have  been  for  a  long  time,  a  ma- 
terialist, though  I  have  never  drawn  your  attention 
to  this  subject  in  my  preaching,  because  I  have  always 
considered  it  myself,  and  wished  you  to  consider  it,  as 
a  mere  metaj^hysical  speculation.  My  opinion,  how- 
ever, upon  this  head  is,  that  the  nature  of  man  is 
simple  and  uniform  ;  that  the  thinking  powers  and 
faculties  are  the  result  of  a  certain  organization  of 
matter;  and  that  after  death  he  ceases  to  be  conscious 
until  the  resurrection.^^ 

The  manner  of  his  deliverance  from  this  error  is 
very  instructive.  It  was  through  the  heart  rather 
than  through  the  head.  By  the  death  of  his  father, 
in  1791,  his  mind  was  carried  back  to  the  state  of 
serious  thought  with  which  he  entered  upon  the  pas- 
toral office.  Meditating,  with  the  deepest  veneration, 
upon  the  unusual  excellences  of  a  parent  now  for 
ever  lost  to  him,  he  was  led  to  investigate,  with  re- 
newed earnestness,  the  truth  as  well  as  value  of  those 
high  and  sacred  principles,  from  which  his  eminent 
piety  and  admirable  consistency  so  evidently  flowed. 
He  called  to  mind,  too,  several  occasions  on  which  his 
father,  partly  by  the  force  of  reason,  partly  by  that  of 
tender  expostulation,  had  exhorted  him  to  abandon 
the  vague  and  dangerous  speculations  to  which  he  was 
prone.  The  result  was  his  renunciation  of  materialism, 
which  he  often  declared  to  be  ''  buried  in,  his  father's 
grave." 

The  first  pastoral  charge  which  Mr.  Hall  held  was 
over  a  church  at  Cambridge,  whose  former  minister  had 
25 


29§  CONFLICT    WITH    DOUBT. 

passed,  by  a  rather  rapid  transition,  from  the  pro- 
fession of  orthodox  opinions  to  the  very  borders  of 
infidelity.  The  state  of  the  church  itself  was,  as 
might  be  expected,  very  unsatisfactory.  It  had  be- 
come so  deteriorated,  that  among  the  more  intelligent 
classes,  with  a  few  exceptions,  "  he  was  esteemed  the 
best  Christian  who  was  most  skilled  in  disputation.'^ 
Thinking  themselves  liberal"  and  unshackled,  they 
could  not  but  congratulate  one  another  that  their 
new  pastor,  a  man  of  splendid  talents,  was  almost  as 
liberal  and  unshackled  as  themselves.  But  he  entered 
on  his  new  duties  with  earnest  desires  that  he  might 
be  able  ''  to  commend  himself  to  every  man's  conscience 
in  the  sight  of  God/'  Feeling  that  to  him  was  con- 
signed the  charge  of  transforming,  with  God's  assist- 
ance, a  cold  and  sterile  soil  into  a  fruitful  field,  he  de- 
termined not  to  satisfy  himself  with  half  measures,  but 
proceeded  to  expose  error,  and  defend  what  he  regarded 
as  essential  truth.  The  first  sermon,  therefore,  which 
he  delivered  at  Cambridge,  after  he  had  assumed  the 
office  of  pastor,  was  on  the  doctrine  of  the  atonement, 
and  its  practical  tendencies.  Immediately  after  the 
conclusion  of  the  service,  one  of  the  congregation,  who 
had  followed  poor  Mr.  Robinson  through  all  his  changes 
of  sentiment,  went  into  the  vestry  and  said  : — ''  Mr. 
Hall,  this  preaching  won't  do  for  us  :  it  will  only  suit 
a  congregation  of  old  women."  "  Do  you  mean  my 
sermon,  sir,  or  the  doctrine?"  ''Your  doctrine." 
"  Why  is  it  that  the  doctrine  is  fit  only  for  old  women  ?" 
"  Because  it  may  suit  the  musings  of  people  tottering 
upon  the  brink  of  the  grave,  and  who  are  eagerly  seek- 
ing comfort."  "  Thank  you,  sir,  for  your  concession. 
The  doctrine  will  not  suit  people  of  any  age,  unless 
it  be    true ;    and    if  it    he   true,   it   is   not  fitted   for 


PROGRESS   OF   MR.    ROBERT    HALL.  291 

old   women    alone,  but   is  equally  important   at   any 
age." 

Early  in  tlie  year  1799,  a  severe  fever,  which  brought 
hini,  in  his  own  apprehension  and  that  of  his  friends, 
to  the  brink  of  the  grave,  gave  him  an  opportunity  of 
experiencing  the  support  yielded  by  the  doctrines  of 
the  cross  "  in  the  near  view  of  death  and  judgment. '* 
He  '^  never  before  felt  his  mind  so  calm  and  happy.'' 
The  impression  was  not  only  salutary,  but  abiding  ; 
and  it  again  prompted  him  to  the  investigation  of 
one  or  two  points,  with  regard  to  which  he  had  long 
felt  himself  floating  in  uncertainty.  Thus,  although 
he  had  for  some  years  steadily  and  earnestly  enforced 
the  necessity  of  divine  influence  in  the  transformation 
of  character,  and  in  perseverance  in  a  course  of  con- 
sistent, holy  obedience,  yet  he  spoke  of  it  as  "  the 
influence  of  the  Spirit  of  God,"  and  never  in  express 
terms,  as  "  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit."  The 
reason  was,  that  though  he  fully  believed  the  necessity 
of  spiritual  agency  in  commencing  and  continuing  the 
spiritual  life,  he  doubted  the  doctrine  of  the  distinct 
personality  of  the  Holy  Spirit."  But  about  this  time 
he  was  struck  with  the  fact,  that  whenever,  in  private 
prayer,  he  was  in  the  most  deeply  devotional  frame, 
*'  most  overwhelmed  with  the  sense  that  he  was  no- 
thing, and  God  was  all  in  all,"  he  always  felt  himself 
inclined  to  adopt  a  Trinitarian  doxology.  This  cir- 
cumstance occurring  frequently,  and  more  frequently 
meditated  upon  in  a  tone  of  honest  and  anxious  inquiry, 
issued  at  length  in  a  persuasion  that  the  Holy  Spirit 
is  really  and  truly  God,  and  not  an  emanation.  It 
was  not,  however,  until  1800  that  he  publicly  included 
the  personality  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  his  statements  of 
the  doctrine  of  spiritual  influence. 


292  CONFLICT    WITH    DOUBT. 

In  November,  1804,  tlie  noble  mind  of  Robert  Hall, 
long  over- wrought  by  abstract  studies,  and  injured  by 
the  severity  of  intense  bodily  suffering,  lost  its  balance; 
and  he  who  had  so  long  been  the  object  of  universal 
admiration  now  became  the  subject  of  as  extensive  a 
sympathy.  In  April,  1805,  he  was  able  to  resume  his 
ministerial  functions ;  but  in  about  twelve  months  he 
was  again  laid  aside  from  public  duty  by  a  recurrence 
of  the  same  malady.  He  soon,  however,  regained  the 
balance  of  his  mental  powers,  but  deemed  it  his  duty, 
for  the  sake  of  entire  relaxation,  to  resign  his  pastoral 
charge.  And  thus  terminated  a  connection  which  had 
subsisted  for  fifteen  years,  and  had  been  of  great  benefit 
to  Mr.  Hall's  character,  while,  by  the  divine  blessing 
upon  his  labours,  it  had  transformed  a  society  that  was 
rapidly  sinking  under  the  influence  of  cold  or  disputa- 
tious speculators,  into  a  flourishing  church  and  congre- 
gation,''  bringing  forth  the  fruits  of  righteousness,'^ 
and  shining  in  the  lustre  of  a  consistent  Christian  pro- 
fession. 

These  two  visitations  of  so  humiliating  a  calamity 
deeply  afi"ected  Mr.  Hall's  mind.  And  it  was  his  per- 
suasion, that  however  vivid  his  convictions  of  religious 
truth,  and  of  the  necessity  of  a  consistent  course  of 
evangelical  obedience,  had  formerly  been,  and  however 
correct  his  doctrinal  sentiments  during  the  last  four 
or  five  years,  yet  that  he  did  not  undergo  a  thorough 
transformation  of  character,  a  complete  renewal  of  his 
heart  and  afi"ections,  until  the  first  of  these  seizures. 
In  this  he  may  have  been  mistaken ;  but  there  can  be 
no  question  that  from  this  period  he  seemed  to  live 
more  under  the  prevailing  recollection  of  his  entire 
dependence  upon  God,  that  his  habits  were  more 
devotional    than    they   had    ever    before    been,    and 


THE    REV.    J.    H.    EVANS.  293 

his     spiritual     exercises     more     fervent     and    more 
elevated. 

The  Rev.  James  Harrington  Evans  may  be  cited 
as  an  instructive  instance  of   conflict 
between  a  Christian  heart  and  specula-  born^p^ruis^ivsV; 

^  ,         .        died  Dee.  1, 1849. 

tive  doubts  on  an  important  question  in 
theology.  Mr.  Evans  had  preached  Christ  for  years,  and 
with  success  before  he  fell  into  those  errors  which,  for 
a  time,  greatly  marred  both  his  happiness  and  his  use- 
fulness. He  had  received  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity, 
together  with  the  other  truths  of  the  Bible  ;  but  he  had 
little  knowledge  of  those  questions  which  have  engaged 
the  attention  of  theologians,  and  little  of  that  mental 
discipline  which  would  qualify  him  to  exercise  a  sound 
judgment  on  novelties  which  might  be  presented  to  his 
mind.  In  these  circumstances,  the  idea  that  Jesus  the 
Man  was  God  only  by  the  indwelling  of  the  Father 
seemed  to  him  to  remove  or  reduce  the  difl&culty  which, 
"  without  controversy,"  is  involved  in  the  mystery  of 
a  Triune  God,  and  was  embraced  and  published  by 
him.  Because  he  felt  that  God  alone  could  convince, 
convert,  and  sanctify  the  sinner;  and  because  he  looked 
to  the  Father,  through  Christ,  to  begin,  to  carry  on,  and 
finish  the  work,  he  did  not  even  suspect  that  the  Holy 
Spirit  could  be  in  the  slightest  degree  dishonoured  by 
him;  and  in  the  midst  of  a  plain  avowal  that  Emmanuel 
was  not  God — that  is,  in  any  real  or  proper  sense — 
he  persuaded  himself  that  he  considered  him  to  be 
God  over  all,  and,  however  inconsistent  it  may  appear, 
in  his  heart  worshipped  him  as  such. 

His  complacency  and  satisfaction,  however,  were 
soon  disturbed  by  the  alarm  which  was  excited  among 
his  friends  by  the  doctrines  which  he  had  given  to  the 

25* 


294  CONFLICT    WITH    DOUBT. 

world.  He  found  himself  broadly  charged  with  a  sys- 
tem which  viewed  the  Saviour  as  God  indeed  by  name, 
but  as  a  mere  man  by  nature,  and  with  entire  denial 
of  the  real  glory  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  the  economy  of 
redemption.  This  charge  appeared  to  him  of  so  awful 
a  nature,  that  it  made  the  deepest  impression  on  his 
mind,  and  the  conviction  soon  became  established,  that 
if  such  were  really  his  system,  it  could  not  be  a  true 
one.  He  was  thus  led  seriously  and  prayerfully  to 
review  his  scheme  altogether;  and  that  not  hastily  but 
with  much  caution  and  deliberation,  and  amid  great  dis- 
tress of  mind.  By  day  and  night  he  was  occupied  with 
the  subject.  He  would  rise  at  three  in  the  morning  for 
study  and  prayer,  earnestly  and  honestly  seeking,  not  to 
establish  a  system,  but  to  know  and  believe  the  truth. 
While  thus  engaged  in  the  investigation,  a  valued 
friend  sent  him  Dr.  Wardlaw's  "  Discourses  on  the 
Socinian  Controversy."  Many  of  the  arguments  of 
this  book  were  .very  convincing  to  him  ;  but  as  the 
work,  being  intended  for  Socinians,  did  not  entirely 
meet  his  case,  it  failed  to  give  him  full  satisfaction, 
and  he  wrote  to  Dr.  Wardlaw  a  letter,  in  which  he 
said,  ''1  have  no  sort  of  conception  that  our  Lord 
was  a  mere  man,  and  I  therefore  rejoice  to  see  how 
triumphantly  you  have  overturned  that  hypothesis. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  confess  that  my  soul  desires 
a  more  perfect  satisfaction  that  the  Redeemer  was,  in 
every  respect  and  in  all  rcsj^ects,  as  truly  God  as  was 
the  Father.  Herein  I  desire  your  prayers  and  your 
advice.  I  feel  in  my  very  soul  the  deepest  anguish 
and  horror  at  the  idea  of  thinking  aught  or  speaking 
aught  against  the  real  glory  of  my  most  blessed  Lord, 
to  whose  blood  I  look  for  righteousness,  and  to  whose 
Spirit  I  look  for  sanctification,  who  is  my  all  in  salva- 


THE    PROPER   GODHEAD    OF    CHRIST.  295 

tion.  ...  If  I  am  in  any  degree  acquainted  with  the 
state  uf  my  own  soul,  it  is  this  : — I  really  desire  to 
receive  in  meekness  the  engrafted  word,  which  is  able 
to  save  my  soul.  I  conceive  that  the  nature  of  God 
is  really  so  far  above  the  comprehension  of  reason, 
that,  whatever  be  the  revelation  of  God  in  the  word, 
it  can  never  be  irrational.  This  stumbling-block, 
blessed  be  God,  is  not  in  my  way.  I  read  my  Bible, 
therefore,  with  eternity  before  me,  and  praying  for 
the  spirit  of  a  little  child.'' 

In  his  reply,  Dr.  Wardlaw  stated,  with  great  clear- 
ness, the  evidence  of  the  proper  Godhead  of  the  Son 
as  distinguished  from  the  Father.  As  to  whether 
"  the  Redeemer,''  to  use  Mr.  Evans's  words,  was  "  in 
every  respect  as  truly  God  as  the  Father,"  his  corre- 
spondent said,  "  I  think  it  ought  at  once  to  strike 
you,  that  there  can  be  but  one  kind  of  Deity.  That 
which  constitutes  Deity  in  the  Father  must  be  that 
which  constitutes  Deity  in  the  Son  and  in  the  Holy 
Spirit.  Divided  and  dependent  Deity  is  a  contra- 
diction. If  Jesus  Christ  be  God,  he  must  be  God 
equal  with  the  Father,  else  he  would  not  be  truly  God 
at  all.  There  can  be  no  superior  and  inferior  descrip- 
tion of  Deity  ]  and  men  have  imposed  upon  them- 
selves by  words  without  distinct  ideas,  when  they 
have  used  any  such  terms,  and  fancied  they  understood 
them.  The  sole  inferiority  of  the  blessed  Jesus  arose 
from  his  voluntarily  assumed  capacity  of  a  servant^ 
when  he  graciously  took  our  nature  upon  him  to  accom- 
plish its  redemption." 

The  investigation,  conducted  in  a  spirit  so  teach- 
able and  devout,  issued,  as  might  be  expected,  in  the 
conviction  that  the  Son  and  the  Holy  Spirit  are,  with 
the  Father,  truly,  properly,  personally,  God.      From 


296  CONFLICT   WITH   DOUBT. 

his  pulpit  and  by  the  press  he  openly  and  solemnly 
stated  the  change  which  had  taken  place  in  his  views. 
He  bought  up  all  the  copies  of  the  book  that  could 
be  found  which  contained  the  errors  he  now  re- 
nounced, and  committed  them  to  the  flames,  often 
with  expressions  of  the  deepest  loathing  and  peni- 
tence before  God.  And  in  the  remembrance  of  his 
fearful  mistake  he  "  walked  softly  all  his  years,  now 
rendered  lowly  and  self-distrustful,  under  the  guidance 
of  the  Spirit  of  truth.'' 

"  It  cannot  be  matter  of  surprise,"  says  his  bio- 
grapher, "  that  during  the  time  when  these  serious 
errors  formed  a  part  of  Mr.  Evans's  creed,  there 
should  be  much  evil  effect  on  his  own  soul  ',  such  he 
afterwards  acknowledged  to  have  been  the  case ;  and 
there  was  also  a  most  manifest  withering  in  his 
ministry.  The  work  of  conversion  was  entirely  at  a 
stand.  He  subsequently  asserted  that  he  did  not 
know  of  one  instance  of  it  while  he  was  preaching 
these  doctrines ;  neither  could  it  be  expected  that 
believers  should  go  to  be  fed  where  poison  was  admi- 
nistered. A  mere  handful  only  of  people  composed  at 
this  time  the  congregation  at  John-street  Chapel, 
while,  immediately  upon  his  restoration,  the  hand  of 
the  Lord  was  manifestly  with  him  :  conversions  were 
numerous,  and  there  was  an  evident  power  in  the  word 
to  the  souls  of  God's  people." 

EoBERT  Alfred  Vaughan  consecrated  himself  to 

the  Christian  ministry  in  early  life,  and 

Vaughan;     born  the  Spirit  in  which  he  did  so  is  disclosed 

1823;    died  1857.  \ 

by  his  private  journal : — "  April  3rd, 
1843.  My  object  must  be  to  look  on  myself  as  called 
by  my  Redeemer  to  set  myself  apart  for  his  ministry, 


ROBERT  ALFRED  VAUGHAN.         297 

looking  up  to  him,  my  only  hope;  to  pray  that  I  may 
do  his  will  concerning  me.  How  can  I  be  disobedient 
to  the  will  of  such  a  Master  ?  One  day  I  shall  be 
with  him  alone — T  shall  be  casting  myself  on  his 
righteousness  as  all  my  hope ;  let  me  then  now  unite 
my  heart  to  fear  his  name  by  the  help  of  the  promised 
Spirit.  I  should  not  have  been  satisfied  that  I  was 
doing  right  if  I  had  been  anything  but  what  I  am 
about  to  become.  And  is  not  that  a  call  ?  Could 
J  but  look  up  to  him  with  constancy  as  the  Kedeemer 
who  is  indeed  my  salvation,  and  to  whom  I  ought  to 
devote  every  capability — what  success  will  be  pro- 
duced by  the  concentration — what  good  with  the  suc- 
cess— what  joy  with  the  good  !  The  fruits  of  this 
decision  would  probably  surpass  all  I  have  dared  to 
hope.     0  Grod,  grant  it  me,  grant  it  me." 

In  this  spirit  the  young  Christian  devoted  himself 
to  preparatory  studies,  under  his  father's  care,  in  the 
Lancashire  Independent  College,  for  three  years.  His 
religious  feeling  was  deep  and  strong.  In  some  sea- 
sons, we  are  told,  it  was  of  a  happy  description,  full 
of  hope  and  of  Christian  aspiration.  In  others,  his 
upbraidings  of  himself,  as  now  revealed  by  his  diary, 
were  severe,  and  must  have  been  attended  with  much 
pain.  "  But  the  die  is  cast,"  he  wrote  in  lines  which 
he  expected  no  eye  to  see.  "  Nothing  now  shall  turn 
me  back.  My  Saviour  not  casting  me  out,  what  shall 
stay  me  ?"  And  again — ''  Thanks  to  God  for  more 
lively  faith,  a  more  earnest  spirit  of  prayer,  a  deeper 
joy  in  religion,  more  self-renunciation.  A  thousand 
impure  thoughts  chased  away ;  affection  turned  to  a 
true,  noble,  pure  channel;  joy  from  the  highest  source 
above,  from  the  best  on  earth,  poured  in  on  me  on 
every  side.     Oh !  what  shall  I  render  to  the  Lord  ? 


298  CONFLICT   WITH   DOUBT. 

Let  me  be  thine;  teach  me  still  more;  shine  on  me 
still  more  brightly.  Let  me  never  again  go  so  far  from 
thee  as  I  have  gone,  but  keep  me  with  thine  embrace 
now  and  ever.'^ 

On  the  completion  of  his  course  of  study  at  the 
Lancashire  College,  Mr.  Vaughan  proceeded  to  spend 
a  year  at  a  German  university.  His  thoughtful  piety, 
his  fixed  reverence  for  the  authority  of  the  sacred 
Scriptures,  and  that  caution  and  ripeness  of  judgment 
which  thus  early  characterized  him,  seemed  to  his 
father  quite  enough  to  show  that  such  a  course  might 
be  taken  without  danger.  He  had  already  attracted 
attention  by  the  power  of  his  pen,  and  it  was  one 
of  the  ambitions  of  his  life  to  use  that  pen  in  the 
defence  of  the  gospel  and  of  the  word  of  God.  And 
it  was  judged  that  the  more  thoroughly  he  understood 
the  theological  questions  which  had  been  so  much 
agitated  in  Germany,  the  better  prepared  should  he 
be  for  the  great  contest  between  truth  and  error. 
Nor  were  the  expectations  which  his  father  and 
friends  cherished  ultimately  disappointed.  But  iu 
the  meantime  he  had  to  pass  through  a  dark  cloud. 
^'  During  his  German  residence,  he  sank,"  to  use  the 
words  of  one  who  seems  to  have  known  him,  "  to  the 
nadir  of  his  spiritual  sphere,  and  seemed  to  voyage 
through  the*  darksome  desert  of  chaos  and  ancient 
night.'  '^  He  applied  himself  then,  for  the  first  time, 
to  the  fundamental  inquiries  of  metaphysics,  and  when 
introduced  to  the  daring  absurdities  and  contradictions 
of  German  philosophy  he  was  bewildered  : — 

"  A  universal  hubbub  wild, 
Of  stunning  sounds  and  voices  all  confused, 
Borne  through  the  hollow  dark,  assault  his  ear 
With  loudest  vehemence." 

"  His  mind/'  to  use  his  father's  words,  "  fell  under  the 


INWARD   CONFUSION.  299 

influence  of  a  vague  spiritual  restlessness,  discontent, 
and  gloom.  It  resembled,  in  some  respects,  the  expe- 
riences through  which  he  had  passed  in  Lancashire, 
but  it  was  in  other  respects  different.  It  came  from 
larger  views  of  the  mystery  of  our  existence,  and  em- 
braced many  more  sources  of  misgiving  and  sorrow." 
"  To  live,"  he  wrote  himself,  while  in  this  state  of  mind, 
to  the  only  friend  to  whom  he  unbosomed  himself — 
*'To  live  is,  to  me,  like  being  led  blindfold  through 
the  streets  of  a  great  city — a  confusion  of  sounds,  the 
bustle  of  feet,  and  the  rolling  of  vehicles — a  sensation 
that  some  parts  are  lighter  and  others  darker,  that  in 
some  places  the  pavement  is  less  smooth,  in  others 
more  so — the  crying  and  the  laughing  of  children  on 
either  side,  and  the  hum  of  the  traffickers — the  buyers 
and  sellers  of  vanities — and  that  is  all.  It  is  of  no 
avail  to  ask  where  we  are.  The  conductor  is  a  mute. 
We  can  only  wait  till  the  bandage  shall  be  taken  off 
our  eyes :  that  will  be  when  we  can  go  no  further. 
Then  will  the  opened  eyes  be  dazzled  in  a  palace,  or 
horror-struck  by  the  sights  that  shall  meet  them  in 
the  eternal  lazar-house — the  hospital  of  sick  souls  for 
ever  cureless." 

One  month  later  he  would  write  in  these  terms  : 
"The  exhilaration  of  entering  on  a  new  space  of  time, 
with  reinvigorated  hopes,  and  efforts  wherewith  to  fill 
it,  has  banished  not  a  few  gloomy  thoughts  :  they  are 
left  behind,  and  I  see  them  no  more.  The  wonderful 
profusion  of  mercies  which  were  daily  granted  me 
during  the  year  that  is  gone,  though  they  increase  the 
sense  of  my  undeserving,  speak  of  a  providential  good- 
ness that  wakes  up  my  thoughts  to  love  and  to  grati- 
tude. It  is  well  to  know  ourselves,  but  such  knowledge 
too  exclusively  is  not  good.     If  any  would  meditate 


300  CONFLICT    AVITH  DOUBT. 

more  on  liimself,  let  him  also  meditate  more  on  Christ, 
or  the  sight  of  the  plagues  of  his  own  heart  will  rob 
him  of  all  hope  and  consolation.  So  I  have  found  it, 
to  my  sorrow.  We  believe  it ;  but  experience  alone 
can  stamp  the  lesson  deeply,  that  love  to  Christ  is 
knowledge,  and  gratitude  to  him,  wisdom ;  and  that  at 
the  foot  of  the  cross  alone  can  we  with  safety  reflect 
upon  ourselves.  Reasoning  may  make  us  believe,  but 
the  sense  of  guilt  causes  us  to  feel  that  Christ  must  be 
Divine."  And  again  :  "  I  cannot  be  sufficiently  thank- 
ful that  I  feel,  at  the  commencement  of  this  year,  so 
differently  from  what  I  did  at  the  close  of  the  last.  Of 
the  despondency  that  then,  as  with  a  sort  of  supernatu- 
ral power,  overcame  me,  I  now  feel  nothing;  and  my 
spirits — though,  while  in  absence  from  you,  it  is  im- 
possible they  should  be  elated — are  yet,  in  comparison, 
tranquil.  The  quiet,  even  progress  of  the  days  in  re- 
gular study  seems  to  have  its  correspondence  in  my 
own  mind ;  and  the  contrast  and  conflict  between  the 
outer  and  inner  life  no  more  agitates  me.  The  faith 
which  was  overshadowed  can  once  more  behold  her 
heaven  -,  and  the  feeling  of  contentment — that  much- 
prized  blessing — does  not  disdain  to  visit  me." 

"Eeader,"  says  Mr.  Yaughan's  father,  "hast  thou 
never  known  anything  of  the  self-contradiction,  the 
processes  of  self-torture,  in  which  spirits  become  skilled 
which  descend  into  these  depths  of  spiritual  life — or, 
rather,  spiritual  death  ?  It  is  not  certain  that  exemp- 
tion from  such  dark  hours  should  be  accounted  a  mat- 
ter for  congratulation.  Many,  we  doubt  not,  ascend  to 
heaven  without  ever  descending  into  regions  which 
seem  to  be  so  far  away  from  it.  But  such  souls  do  not 
go  to  the  highest  heaven  ;  nor  will  they  ever  be  able 
to  show  others  the  road  thither.     The  men  who  find, 


TRIUMPH    OF   FAITH.  301 

beyond  others,  tteir  all  in  God,  are  the  men  who  have 
known,  beyond  others,  what  it  is  to  be  without  him — • 
to  feel  after  him,  and  not  to  find  him.  Certain  it 
is,  that  the  fearful  ordeal  through  which  this  young 
Christian  passed  enabled  him  the  better  to  understand 
the  distraction  and  agony  of  some  of  the  mystics  whose 
erratic  experience  and  faith  he  was  thus  prepared  to 
explain,*  and  qualified  him  to  deal  with  doubt  and 
doubters  as  probably  he  could  not  have  otherwise  done. 
Trial  in  this  form  never  returned,  but  the  benefits 
which  accrued  from  it  were  never  lost.  "  I  think  I 
see  now,"  he  said,  "  the  past  has  been  a  stage  further 
of  self-building.  I  am  anxious  to  be,  not  what  I  wish 
to  be,  but  what  Christ  would  wish  me  to  be.  To 
labour  for  ourselves  is  a  sorry  task — to  labour  for  hiniy 
the  highest  happiness."  And  it  was  his  happiness  to 
labour  for  him  with  uninterrupted  constancy  to  the 
end  of  his  brief  career;  and  in  no  form  was  his  labour 
more  valuable  than  in  the  defence  of  Christ's  truth. 
That  the  boasted  philosophy  of  Germany  is  "  false  and 
worthless"  was  his  deep  conviction.  Like  his  name- 
sake, who  entered  the  camp  of  the  Danes  in  the  dis- 
guise of  a  minstrel,  he  examined  its  hostile  position  for 
himself,  and  was  able  the  more  effectually  to  combat 
them  afterwards;  and  the  truths  which  he  preached 
with  his  lips,  and  which  he  defended  with  his  pen, 
were  his  strength  and  joy  when  he  saw  an  early  grave 
opening  to  receive  him.  "  To  have  dying  well  oyer," 
he  said — behind  me,  not  Ijefore,  and  life's  trial  ended 
happily — would  be  bliss  indeed.  But  let  me  not  doubt 
the  Son  of  God.  Is  death  worse  in  real  danger  than 
thirty  years  of  life  ?  Surely  not.  Have  I  not  been 
marvellously  kept?     Then  I  can  launch  out,  I  hope, 

*  In  his  book,  "  Hours  with  the  Mystics." 
26 


302  CONFLICT    WITH   DOUBT. 

trustfully.  Oh  !  forsake  not  the  work  of  thine  own 
hands.  At  least,  let  me  live  as  if  living  only  for  each 
single  day  as  Glod  gives  it.  My  lot  at  this  moment 
abounds  in  mercy.  Hear  my  cry,  0  Lord ;  may  I  be 
ready  when  thou  comest.  This  is  my  duty — the  plain 
duty  of  my  position — not  to  be  afraid.  I  cannot  pro- 
claim Christ,  cannot  actively  serve  him  ;  but  I  am  bound 
to  glorify  him  by  rising  above  the  fear  of  death.  Is 
not  cowardice  treason  ?  Fear  not  then  death,  saith 
my  Lord.  Great  words.  The  power  of  death  is  bro- 
ken. Captivity  is  captive.  May  Christ  set  me  free 
from  that  disgraceful  bondage — fear  of  death.  Thy 
will  be  done." 

The  spirit  of  doubt  assails  some  men,  we  have 
remarked,  as  a  spirit  of  mischief,  Bent  direct  from  hell 
to  harass  and  annoy  them.  Of  this  order  was  the 
experience  of  John  Bunyan.  "  Sometimes,  when  I 
have  been  preaching,"  he  says,  ''  I  have  been  violently 
assaulted  with  thoughts  of  blasphemy,  and  strongly 
tempted  to  speak  the  words  with  my  mouth  before  the 
congregation.  I  have  also,  at  some  times,  even  when 
I  have  begun  to  speak  the  word  with  such  clearness, 
evidence,  and  liberty  of  speech,  yet  been,  before  the 
ending  of  that  opportunity,  so  blinded,  and  so 
estranged  from  the  things  I  have  been  speaking,  and 
have  also  been  so  straitened  in  my  speech,  as  to  utter- 
ance before  the  people,  that  I  have  been  as  if  I  had 
not  known  or  remembered  what  I  have  been  about,  or 
as  if  my  head  had  been  in  a  bag  all  the  time  of  my 
exercise."  Again  he  tells  us  how  that  ''  whole  floods 
of  blasphemies,  both  against  God,  Christ,  and  the 
Scriptures,  were  poured  in  upon  his  spirit,  to  his  great 
confusion    and    astonishment.       These    blasphemous 


BUNYAN  AND   PAYSON.  303 

thoughts  stirred  up  questions  in  him  against  the 
very  being  of  God,  and  of  his  only  beloved  Son  :  as 
whether  there  were,  in  truth,  a  God  or  Christ,  and 
whether  the  Holy  Scriptures  were  not  rather  a  fable 
and  cunning  story,  than  the  holy  and  pure  word  of 
God."  Even  his  Pilgrim,  whose  experience  was  in- 
tended to  represent  that  of  ordinary  Christians,  and 
to  whose  fidelity  in  its  grand  outlines  and  general 
character,  every  evangelical  Christian  can  testify,  did 
not  reach  the  celestial  city  without  encountering 
atheistical  doubts  on  his  way  thither.  And  the  first 
remark  which  he  makes  in  the  *'  Conclusion"  of  his 
"  Grace  Abounding  to  the  Chief  of  Sinners"  is  as 
follows  : — "  Of  all  the  temptations  that  ever  I  met 
with  in  my  life,  to  question  the  being  of  God,  and 
truth  of  his  Gospel,  is  the  worst,  and  the  worst  to  be 
borne.  When  this  temptation  comes  it  takes  away  my 
girdle  from  me,  and  removeth  the  foundation  from 
under  me.  Oh,  I  have  often  thought  of  that  word, 
^  Have  your  loins  girt  about  with  truth  ;*  and  of  that, 
*  When  the  foundations  are  destroyed,  what  can  the 
righteous  do  ?' " 

The  experience  of  Dr.  Payson  was  in  this,  as  in 
many  other  respects,  like  that  of  John  Bunyan.  "  It 
seems  to  me,"  he  wrote  to  his  mother  after  being  many 
years  in  the  ministry,  ^'that  those  who  die  young,  like 
Brainerd  and  Martyn,  know  almost  nothing  of  the 
difficulty  of  persevering  in  the  Christian  race.  My 
difficulties  increase  every  year.  There  is  one  trial 
which  you  cannot  know  experimentally.  It  is  that  of 
being  obliged  to  preach  to  others,  when  one  doubts 
of  everything,  and  can  scarcely  believe  that  there  is 
a  God.     All  the  atheistical,  deistical,  and  heretical 


304  CONFLICT   WITH   DOUBT. 

objections,  wliich  I  meet  with  ia  books,  are  childish 
Dabbliugs  compared  with  those  which  Satan  suggests, 
and  which  he  urges  upon  the  mind  with  a  force  which 
seems  irresistible.  Yet  I  am  often  obliged  to  write 
sermons,  and  to  preach,  when  these  objections  beat 
upon  me  like  a  whirlwind,  and  almost  distract  me. 
When  he  asks  as  he  continually  does  ask,  '  What 
have  jou  gained  by  all  your  prayers  ?'  I  know  not  what 
to  reply.  However,  pray  I  must,  and,  God  assisting 
me,  pray  I  will.  The  way  is,  indeed,  difficult,  but 
I  can  devise  no  other  which  is  not  more  so.  There  is 
no  one  to  whom  I  can  go,  if  I  forsake  Christ. '^ 

What,  then,  shall  we  say  to  these  things?  Were 
Bunyan  and  Payson  hypocrites,  who  preached  what 
they  did  not  believe,  or  what  they  had  discovered  rea- 
son to  doubt?  Very  far  from  it.  One  of  them  suf- 
fered twelve  years'  imprisonment  for  what  he  preached, 
and  both  of  them  were  prepared  to  lay  down  their 
lives  in  its  defence.  They  were  not  as  men  who,  in 
examining  the  foundations  on  which  they  had  built, 
discovered  some  flaw  or  fatal  defect;  for  every  suc- 
ceeding examination  only  strengthened  their  convic- 
tions of  the  truth  of  divine  revelation.  They  were 
rather  as  men  persecuted  by  Satan  "  for  righteousness' 
sake."  "  No  reasonable  man  can  adduce  Dr.  Payson 's 
temptations,"  says  his  biographer,  "  to  discredit  reli- 
gion, for  they  are  vanquished  temptations  :  he  over- 
came them  all."  And  he  overcame  them  not  by 
shutting  his  eyes,  but  by  giving  due  weight  to  the 
evidences  of  religion,  and  keeping  his  heart  with  all 
diligence.  In  one  of  his  last  sermons,  on  Psalm 
xviii.  30,  "  The  word  of  the  Lord  is  tried,"  he  de- 
scribed the  trials  to  which  the  word  of  the  Lord  had 
been  subjected   by  its   enemies,  and  the  tests  of  a 


PROFESSOR    HALYBURTON.  305 

different  character  which  it  has  sustained  from  its 
friends.  And  "  never  scarcely  were  the  mightiest 
infidels  made  to  appear  so  puny,  insignificant,  and 
foolish.  He  who  sitteth  in  the  heavens  could  almost 
be  seen  '  deriding  them/  When  describing  the 
manner  in  which  Christians  had  tried  it,  '  he  spoke  out 
of  the  abundance  of  his  heart.'  Experience  aided 
his  eloquence,  and  added  strength  to  the  conviction 
which  it  wrought."  Some  months  after,  when  on  the 
bed  of  death,  he  said  to  members  of  his  congregation 
■who  visited  him,  "  It  has  often  been  remarked,  that 
people  who  have  been  into  the  other  world  cannot 
come  back  to  tell  us  what  they  have  seen  ;  but  I  am 
go  near  the  eternal  world,  that  I  can  see  almost  as 
clearly  as  if  I  were  there ;  and  I  see  enough  to  satisfy 
myself,  at  least,  of  the  truth  of  the  doctrines  which 
I  have  preached.  I  do  not  know  that  I  should  feel 
at  all  surer  had  I  been  really  there. '^ 

The  experience  of  Professor  Halyburton  in  this 
matter  is  very  instructive.  Under  date  February  24, 
1706,  he  writes  :  "  In  the  morning  I  was  sore  shaken 
about  the  truths  of  God,  but  came  to  peace  a^  to 
what  I  was  to  speak  in  three  things — (1.)  Lord, 
thou  hast  fully  satisfied  me  as  to  the  utter  vanity 
and  unsatisfactoriness  of  all  other  courses  for  satis- 
faction, as  to  our  great  concerns,  besides  that  revealed 
in  the  gospel.  (2.)  Lord,  thou  hast  fully  satisfied 
me,  that,  supposing  the  truth  of  the  gospel,  there 
is  a  plenary  and  full  security  as  to  all  that  I  can 
desire,  with  respect  to  time  and  eternity,  in  it. 
(3.)  Lord,  thou  hast  given  me  that  full  and  rational 
evidence  for  the  truth  of  the  gospel,  far  beyond 
what   would   in  other   things  fuUv   satisfy   me:    and 

26* 


306  CONFLICT    WITH    DOUBT. 

therefore  it  must  only  be  the  wretched  unbelief  of 
my  heart  that  keeps  me  hesitating  here.  I  will  look 
for  faith  to  the  Author  of  it.  Of  these  I  am  so 
fixed,  that  no  power  of  temptation  has  been  able  to 
shake  me.  AH  my  doubtings  flow  from  the  power  of 
unbelief,  that  will  not  be  suppressed  without  an  over- 
powering sense  of  divine  authority.  I  preached,  and 
was  helped  in  public  worship,  being  strengthened  in 
body,  and  sweetened  in  spirit.'^ 

"  Ministers,"  said  Professor  Halyburton,  as  the 
result  of  his  own  observation,  "  for  the  most  part  are 
more  shaken  about  the  truths  of  religion,  and  the 
foundations,  than  about  their  own  state ;  people,  more 
about  their  state,  than  about  the  truths  of  religion." 
There  is  perhaps  more  than  one  reason  for  the  differ- 
ence. Ministers  in  the  constant  study  of  divine 
things  are  in  danger  of  forgetting  the  limits  of  their 
own  powers,  and  of  urging  their  thoughts  onward 
into  the  darkness  of  mysteries  which  only  infinite 
powers  can  fathom  ;  and  bewilderment  is  the  natural 
consequence.  Daedalus  and  Icarus — so  runs  the 
ancient  fable — made  themselves  wings ;  but  Icarus 
having  flown  too  high,  the  heat  of  the  sun  melted  the 
wax  by  which  his  wings  were  attached  to  his  body, 
and  he  fell  into  the  sea  and  was  drowned.  So  will  it 
be  with  those  who  attempt  to  rise  higher  than  their 
powers  are  capable  of  bearing  them  in  the  contem- 
plation of  things  spiritual  and  divine.  So  minds 
are  constitutionally  eager  to  penetrate  into  things 
unknown,  and  sufi"er  the  bitter  fruits  of  their  pre- 
sumption in  the  doubts  and  uncertainties  which  arise 
from  the  impotence  of  their  endeavours.  Other 
minds,  deeply  alive  to  the  awfulness  of  the  questions 


SATANIC   AGENCY.  307 

which  engage  so  much  of  their  thought,  and  sensitive 
to  the  very  possibilities  of  error,  often  struggle  after 
a  kind  and  degree  of  evidence  which  the  very  nature 
of  the  object  does  not  admit  of:  they  would  live  by 
sight  and  not  by  faith.  And  it  is  not  to  be  wondered 
if  these  are  haunted  by  doubts  which,  even  in  their 
own  better-instructed  judgment,  are  groundless. 

These  natural  causes,  however,  do  not  perhaps 
sufficiently  explain  the  fact  observed  by  Professor 
Halyburton.  Those  who  believe  holy  Scripture  will 
not  find  it  hard  to  suppose  that  Satan  has  a  direct 
agency  in  such  doubts  as  those  of  Bunyan  and  Pay- 
son.  We  do  not  undertake  to  define  the  manner  and 
degree  of  his  agency.  But  if  he  found  the  means  of 
access  to  the  pure  mind  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  dared 
to  insinuate  doubt  into  his  thoughts — ^^If  thou  be 
the  Son  of  God" — we  need  not  marvel  that  he  should 
assail  with  doubt  the  feebler  minds  and  less-informed 
thoughts  of  Christ's  foIloAvers.  It  is  difficult  to 
account,  on  any  other  supposition,  for  the  experience 
of  some  Christians.  They  have  studied  the  evidences 
of  religion  fully,  and  have  attained  the  strongest  con- 
victions of  its  truth.  Their  hearts  are  interested, 
with  their  understanding,  in  the  faith  of  Christ,  and 
have  found  rest  and  satisfaction  in  the  Atonement, 
and  in  him  who  ofi"ered  it.  But  in  a  way  they  know 
not,  and  from  a  source  which  they  cannot  trace, 
thoughts  arise  utterly  subversive  of  their  strongest 
convictions,  and  fatal  to  their  most  cherished  hopes. 
They  sometimes  repel  these  thoughts  with  a  strong 
will,  and  sometimes  grapple  with  them  by  a  thorough 
reconsideration  of  the  grounds  on  which  their  belief 
rests.  Every  review  of  those  many  lines  of  argu- 
ment;  historical  and    moral,  wliich    converge  on  one 


308  CONFLICT    WITH    DOUBT. 

conclusion,  the  reality  and  truth  of  the  gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  which  seem  to  stand  around  it  as  a  guard 
of  strong  and  armed  men,  ends  not  in  shaking  but  in 
strengthening  their  Christian  convictions.  But  what 
avails  it?  The  review  is  no  sooner  completed  than 
the  old  thought  presents  itself,  and,  in  defiance  of  will 
and  reason,  disturbs  and  distresses  the  soul.  Whence 
that  thought,  if  not  from  some  of  those  ministers  of 
"  the  prince  of  the  power  of  the  air,"  whose  only 
pleasure  it  is  to  annoy  the  servants  of  the  Most  High, 
and,  if  possible,  turn  them  away  from  God  ?  The 
assailant  doubt  may  take  shape  from  prevalent  forms 
of  scepticism,  or  may  adapt  itself  to  the  constitutional 
weakness  or  tendency  of  the  person  assailed.  But 
in  fixing  itself  in  spite  of  reason,  as  it  does,  in  the 
soul,  and,  like  a  poisoned  dart,  difiusing  fever  around 
it,  while  conviction,  though  rationally  unmoved,  is 
not  sufficient  to  neutralize  or  prevent  it,  we  do  not 
hesitate  to  look  upon  it  as  a  weapon  in  the  hands  of 
the  arch-enemy. 

And  what  do  doubts  of  this  order,  doubts  the  most 
distressing  because  the  least  amenable  to  reason, 
prove  ?  "  Not  that  the  Scriptures  are  false,  and  reli- 
gion a  delusion,  but  that  these  can  survive,  and  shine 
the  brighter,  and  stand  the  firmer,  notwithstanding 
the  most  malignant  and  desperate  assaults  of  their 
most  powerful  foes." 

Sach  trials  of  faith  answer  many  valuable  ends. 
"  The  champion  of  the  cross  who  is  destined  to 
make  wide  encroachments  on  the  kingdom  of  Satan, 
must  not  be  '  ignorant  of  his  devices/  He  must  see 
and  know  the  enemies  to  be  resisted,  in  order  to  wield 
his  spiritual  weapons  with  skill  and  efi'ect.  When 
Luther    took  the  '  cowi  and  tonsure/  he  little  knew 


TWO   RESTING   PLACES.  309 

for  what  purpose;  and  human  foresight  would  never 
have  predicted  the  consequences  which  grew  out  of 
his  seclusion.  But  it  was  in  a  monastery  that  he 
acquired  that  knowledge  and  experience  which  fitted 
him  for  the  peculiar  part  which  he  was  subsequently 
to  act  in  demolishing  monastic  institutions,  and  in 
kindling  and  spreading  the  light  of  the  glorious  Pre- 
formation." 

It  would  be  a  great  mistake,  however,  to  imagine 
that  doubts  of  the  nature  we  have  been  considerins: 
are  necessary  parts  of  religion,  or  are  even  among 
the  healthy  operations  of  piety.  Far  otherwise.  It 
should  be  our  daily  prayer  to  be  kept  from  such 
temptations.  ^'As  a  defence  against  them  we  should 
'  trust  in  God  at  all  times/  and  pour  out  our  hearts 
before  him.  We  should  strive  to  banish  such  sug- 
gestions from  the  mind  when  they  enter  it,  and  to 
hold  up  the  shield  of  faith  as  a  defence  against  the 
fiery  darts  of  the  devil,  when  we  see  them  approaching." 

In  our  endeavours  to  know  God,  God  has  himself 
provided  two  resting-places  for  the  intellect  and  the 
heart — by  revealing  himself  as  a  Father,  and  by  re- 
vealing himself  in  ''  the  man  Christ  Jesus." 

The  story  of  the  king  who  asked  the  philosopher, 
Y/hat  is  God  ?  is  well-known.  "  Give  me  a  day  to 
think  of  it,'^  was  the  reply.  But  when  the  day  was 
ended,  '*  Give  me  another  day,"  was  the  philosopher's 
request.  The  day  was  granted,  and  then  another 
was  required.  Until  the  philosopher  confessed,  that 
the  longer  he  thought  of  the  question,  the  more  diffi- 
cult he  found  the  answer.  In  this  little  tale  we  have 
wrapped  up,  as  it  were  in  a  parable,  the  history  of  all 
men's  attempts  "  to  find  out  God." 


310  CONFLICT   WITH    DOUBT. 

The  Bible  tells  us,  in  one  simple  utterance,  all  that 
can  be  known  of  the  nature  of  God,  when  it  sajs, 
^'  God  is  a  Spirit;"  and  when  to  this  Spirit  it  ascribes 
self-existing  life,  intelligence,  power,  holiness,  and 
love.  When  we  receive  these  truths,  we  feel  ourselves 
at  once  raised  above,  and  placed  immeasurably  in  ad- 
vance of,  all  that  men  by  their  own  reasonings  have 
ever  attained.  And.  yet  we  do  not  feel  that  our  in- 
tellect has  found  a  resting-place.  We  are  conscious 
of  being  kept  perpetually  on  the  stretch — mentally 
struggling  to  comprehend  the  incomprehensible,  or 
at  least  to  bring  within  the  range  of  our  mind's  vision 
more  and  more  of  that  outlying  and  far-reaching 
infinitude  which  belongs  to  every  attribute  of  the 
Eternal  Spirit.  It  is  the  truth  we  hold ;  but  we  feel 
we  can  never  reach  the  whole  truth.  And,  in  our 
natural  ambition  to  acquire  more,  we  are  restlegs  in 
the  possession  of  what  we  have  already  acquired.  But 
feeling  how  little  we  can  understand  of  the  saying, 
"  God  is  a  Spirit,"  we  feel  how  much  and  how 
thoroughly  we  can  understand  the  saying,  "  God  is 
our  Father.''  It  is  not  the  sort  of  knowledge  that 
many  minds  crave  after,  but  it  is  just  that  knowledge 
in  which  the  mind,  jaded,  worn  out,  sickened  by  its 
attempts  after  another  kind  of  knowledge,  at  last  finds 
rest.  Humiliated  by  its  failures  to  comprehend  God, 
and  chastened  into  a  proper  estimate  of  its  own 
powers,  it  finds  rest  at  last  with  peaceful,  if  not 
joyful,  satisfaction,  in  the  conclusion,  "  God  is  my 
Father.'' 

This  doctrine  is  a  resting-place  for  the  heart  like- 
wise. We  are  not  alone  in  this  world.  We  feel  that 
we  cannot  be  alone.  We  are  not  made  for  it.  We 
send  out  our  afi'ections  all  around,  like  the  feelers  of 


Sll 

certain  animals,  to  find  objects  to  which  they  may 
attach  themselves,  on  which  they  may  rest,  and  from 
which  they  may  draw  a  life  of  peace  and  enjoyment. 
But  we  make  the  most  grievous  mistakes,  and  receive 
the  recompense  of  our  errors  in  bitter  disappoint- 
ment and  sorrow.  God  has  provided  for  our  affec- 
tions many  objects  to  which  they  may  adhere  with 
more  or  less  of  tenacity,  and  from  which  they  may 
derive  more  or  less  of  satisfaction ;  and  these  his 
gifts  are  not  to  be  cynically  scorned,  but  gratefully 
accepted.  But  he  has  so  ordered  it,  that  only  in  him- 
self may  the  human  heart  find  a  resting-place.  And 
not  only  so,  but  it  is  only  in  certain  aspects  of  his 
character,  and  in  certain  relationships  in  which  he 
stands  to  us,  that  we  can  find  our  rest.  As  an  object 
of  affection,  devout,  unlimited,  supreme,  we  can 
imagine  nothing  more  fit  or  excellent  than  God,  con- 
templated simply  in  the  moral  grandeur  and  beauty 
of  his  character.  But  yet,  acquaint  ourselves  as  we 
may  with  the  noblest  and  loveliest  attributes  of  God, 
think  of  them,  not  as  abstractions,  but  as  cohering  in 
him,  the  Greatest,  the  Best,  we  still  feel  that,  glorious 
as  is  the  image  on  which  we  are  gazing,  and  prepared 
as  we  are  to  fall  down  and  worship  it,  there  lacketh 
something — something  that  shall  have  an  endearing 
and  uniting  influence,  something  that  shall  make  it 
our  heart's  resting-place.  And  we  feel  that  this  is 
provided  for  us  when  we  are  told,  "That  great  and 
good  One,  on  whom  your  eye  is  gazing  with  such 
rapt  admiration,  and  to  which  your  heart  goes  forth 
adoringly,  is  your  Father  in  heaven."  The  words 
open  a  new  fountain  in  our  hearts.  "We  stand  no 
longer  at  a  distance  wonderingly,  but  rush  to  his 
feet;   and   while   we  bathe   them   with   the  tears  of 


312  CONFLICT    WITH    DOUBT. 

affect    n  and  joy,  we   exclaim,  ''  This  is  my  rest  for 
ever." 

A  few  years  ago  a  young  Brahmin  became  a  Chris- 
tian, and  openly  professed  his  faith  in  the  Saviour 
of  the  world.  By  the  operation  of  an  unjust  law, 
and  by  the  fanaticism  of  his  Hindu  relations,  he  was 
deprived  of  his  property,  separated  from  his  wife  and 
children,  and  cast  on  the  tender  mercies  of  a  cold  and 
cruel  world.  Loathed  as  a  leper  by  those  who  were 
dearest  to  his  heart,  and  hated  as  a  fiend  by  those 
whom  he  most  loved,  the  question  was  put  to  him, 
"  What  have  you  gained  by  becoming  a  Christian  ?" 
"  Much,"  he  replied, — "  much  ;  I  have  learned  to  say 
'  Our  Father.'  "  The  Christian  Brahmin  did  not  mean 
that  he  could  now  repeat  the  Lord's  Prayer.  That, 
in  itself,  done  idly  or  superstitiously,  would  be  as  value- 
less and  comfortless  to  his  soul  as  the  re'petition  of  a 
Hindu  prayer.  But  he  had  acquired  a  knowledge  of 
the  one  true  God  as  his  Father  ;  and  by  this  the  trou- 
bled sea  of  his  heart  was  quieted,  the  earnest  craving 
of  his  soul  was  satisfied ;  and  with  a  Father  in  heaven 
who  loved  him  and  cared  for  him,  he  could  endure  to 
be  an  outcast  for  Christ's  sake. 

In  our  endeavours  to  know  God,  the  intellect  and 
the  heart  find  another  resting-place  in  the  manifes- 
tation of  God  in  Christ  Jesus.  "  Omnipresence,  om- 
nipotence, omniscience,  being  without  form  or  place, 
existence  without  beginning  or  end,  eternal  rest  with- 
out change  or  emotion — these  in  their  very  sublimity 
constitute  a  notion  which  tends  to  repel  rather  than 
to  attract,  to  overwhelm  and  crush  rather  than  gently 
to  raise  and  foster  our  human  sympathies  and  desires. 
Our  mortal  feebleness  shrinks  from  it  in  trembling 


"the    man   CHRIST   JESUS."  313 

awe.  "We  cannot  make  a  home  of  this  cold  magnifi- 
cence; we  cannot  take  immensity  by  the  hand.  The 
soul,  lost  in  such  contemplations,  like  a  trembling 
child  wandering  on  some  mountain  solitude,  longs, 
amidst  all  this  vastness  and  grandeur,  for  the  sound 
of  some  familiar  voice  to  break  the  stillness,  or  the 
sight  of  some  sheltered  spot  in  which  it  may  nestle 
with  the  sense  of  friendliness  and  security. 

''  Now,  that  which  is  thus  the  deep-felt  want  of  our 
nature  is  most  fully  and  adequately  met  in  the  person 
of  Jesus  Christ.  For  here  is  One  whom,  while  we 
may  reverence  and  adore  as  God,  we  can  think  of  as 
clearly,  and  love  as  simply,  trustingly,  tenderly,  as 
the  best-known  and  loved  of  our  earthly  friends. 
Here  is  a  point  around  which  our  shadowy  concep- 
tions may  condense,  a  focus  towards  which  our  aim- 
less aspirations  may  tend.  Here  we  have  set  before 
us  the  Boundless  limited  in  form,  the  Eternal  dwelling 
in  time,  the  invisible  and  spiritual  God  revealed  in 
that  Word  of  life  which  human  eyes  have  seen,  and 
human  hands  have  handled.  No  longer,  when  we 
read,  or  muse,  or  pray,  need  our  minds  be  at  a  loss, 
our  thoughts  wander  forth  through  eternity  in  search 
of  a  living  God.  To  him  who  lived  among  us, 
breathed  our  common  air  and  spoke  our  human 
speech,  loved  us  with  a  human  heart,  and  healed  and 
helped  us  with  human  hands,  to  him,  as  God,  every 
knee  may  bow,  and  every  tongue  confess.  No  longer, 
in  our  hidden  joys  and  griefs,  in  our  gratitude  and 
our  contrition,  in  our  love  and  in  our  sorrow,  when 
our  full  hearts  long  for  a  heavenly  confidant,  to  whom, 
as  to  no  earthly  friend,  we  may  lay  bare  our  souls, 
need  we  feel  as  if  God  were  too  awful  a   Being  to 

obtrude  upon   him   our   insignificance,  or  to  ofi"er  to 

27 


314  CONFLICT   WITH  DOUBT. 

him  our  tenderness  or  our  tears.  '  Come  unto  me/  is 
the  invitation  of  this  blessed  One,  so  intensely  human, 
though  so  gloriously  Divine, — 'unto  me/  in  whose 
arms  little  children  were  embraced,  on  whose  bosom 
a  frail  mortal  lay, — '  unto  me,'  who  hungered,  thirsted, 
fainted,  sorrowed,  wept,  and  yet  whose  love,  and  grief, 
and  pains,  and  tears,  were  the  expression  of  emotions 
felt  in  the  mighty  heart  of  God — '  come  unto  me,  all 
ye  that  labour  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give 
you  rest.' "  * 

'^  For  my  own  part,"  said  Dr.  Arnold,  "  consider- 
ing one  great  object  of  God's  revealing  himself  in  the 
person  of  Christ  to  be  the  furnishing  us  with  an  object 
of  worship  which  we  could  at  once  love  and  under- 
stand ;  or,  in  other  words,  the  supplying  safely  and 
wholesomely  that  want  in  human  nature,  which  has 
shown  itself  in  false  religions,  '  in  making  gods  after 
our  own  devices,'  it  does  seem  to  me  to  be  forfeiting 
the  peculiar  benefits  thus  offered,  if  we  persist  in 
attempting  to  approach  God  in  his  own  incompre- 
hensible essence,  which,  as  no  man  hath  seen  or  can 
see,  so  no  man  can  conceive  it.  .  .  .  Unitarians  have 
deceived  themselves  by  fancying  that  they  could  under- 
stand the  notion  of  one  God  any  better  than  that  of 
God  in  Christ;  whereas  it  seems  to  me,  that  it  is  only 
of  God  in  Christ  that  I  can  in  my  present  state  of 
being  conceive  anything  at  all." 

True  it  is  that,  without  controversy,  the  incarnation 
which  thus  provides  a  resting-place  for  our  labouring 
thoughts  and  wearied  hearts  involves  in  it  a  great 
mystery.  But  it  is  a  mystery  which  is  often  much 
misjudged.  The  point  of  view  from  which  it  ought 
to  be  regarded  was  well  expressed  by  a  poor  negro 

*  Rev.  John  Caird  :  "Sermons." 


JAMES   A.    THOMSON.  815 

woman.  "  How  wonderful,"  said  a  missionary,  "  that 
the  great  God  should  condescend  to  become  a  man  !" 
*'  Not  at  all  wonderful/'  was  the  unconsciously  sublime 
reply ;  '*  it  was  onli/  just  like  him  J' 

It  was  our  privilege  to  hear  the  same  thought  on 
an   affecting  occasion  from   the   lips  of     ^         »  mv, 

o  r  James  A.  Thom- 

a  dying  young  man,  whose  experience  d°e^i^°Ma%*ch^l3" 

,    ^.         ^7       7,  •       ^         ,.  1821;  died  1841.  * 

in  relation  to  doubt  was  very  instructive. 
Consecrated  to  the  Saviour  in  early  life,  he  was  for  a 
time  spiritually  injured  by  too  devoted  and  exclusive 
a  pursuit  of  "  the  ignis  fatuiis  of  learning/'  Refer- 
ring to  the  commencement  of  his  university  studies, 
he  wrote  to  me  two  years  later  (1838)  : — '^  I  met  with, 
eagerly  read,  and  admired  '  Combe's  Constitution  of 
Man.'  This  plausible  and,  in  many  respects,  excel- 
lent book  came  in  my  way  at  a  peculiarly  dangerous 
time.  I  had  been  just  studying,  and  at  that  time 
firmly  believed,  the  science  of  phrenology,  of  which 
the  author  is  so  eminently  an  apostle  ;  the  book  was 
at  the  height  of  its  popularity  with  that  party  with 
which  I  then  sympathized,  and  had  been  as  plentifully 
abused  by  those  against  whom  my  anti-pathetical 
feelings  ran  as  strongly;  and  above  all,  I  had  been 
taking  my  first  lessons  in  philosophy,  and  learned  its 
pride,  not  its  humility.  The  influence  of  the  book 
on  my  mind  was  mostly  indirect.  I  was  not  sensible 
of  the  dangerous  nature  of  some  of  its  sentiments ; 
I  would  have  persuaded  myself  that  its  views  were 
entirely  consonant  with  Scripture,  and  that  it  con- 
tained the  true  interpretation  of  Scripture;  so  that  it 
did  not  perceptibly  alter  my  avowed  religious  opinions. 
It  was  the  subtle   spirit  of  thrice-diluted  infidelity — 


816  CONFLICT   WITH   DOUBT. 

the  volatile  ether  of  modern  Unitarianism — that  per- 
meated the  whole  soul,  and  corrupted  the  penetralia 
of  the  inner  man, — this  it  was  that  did  the  mischief. 
It  was  long  before  this  temptation  ceased  to  exert  its 
influence  on  me." 

Laden  with  university  honours,  James  Thomson 
^'  purposed  in  his  heart''  to  preach  Christ's  gospel  to 
the  heathen  of  China,  and  the  purpose  was  doubtless 
accepted  of  Him  who  inspired  it.  But  it  was  the 
Lord's  will  that  his  young  servant  should  glorify  him 
on  an  early  death-bed  rather  than  in  the  field  of 
labour.  When  lying  on  that  death-bed,  and  speaking 
of  the  wonders  of  the  incarnation  and  death  of  Em- 
manuel, I  recited  to  him  the  conversation  of  an 
inexperienced  young  Christian  with  an  aged  and 
learned  Unitarian.  Walking  together,  on  a  beautiful 
summer  day,  on  the  banks  of  a  Highland  river,  and 
surrounded  with  some  of  the  sublimest  scenery  of 
Scotland,  the  man  of  years  and  learning  suddenly 
paused,  and,  pointing  to  the  glories  around,  said  with 
a  feeling  of  apparent  devoutness  : — "  What  are  we  ? 
Worms  creeping  on  the  earth — less  than  nothing.  Can 
you  imagine  that  the  God  who  lighted  those  skies, 
and  clothed  this  earth  with  beauty,  should  become  a 
man  and  die  for  us  ?"  The  youth,  not  shaken  but 
yet  unaccustomed  to  such  questionings,  replied,  "  We 
are  not  judges  of  what  it  befits  the  great  God  to  con- 
descend to  do.  Besides,  low  as  we  are  in  guilt  and 
pollution  and  misery,  our  nature  was  originally  high  ; 
it  is  spiritual,  and  was  made  in  the  image  of  God.'' 
My  dying  friend  immediately  raised  himself  on  his 
couch,  and,  with  an  expression  of  intense  ardour  in 
his  eyes,  said  with  energy,  "  I  would  have  taken  him 


DEVOTION   AND   WORK.  317 

up  on  his  own  grounds.  Real  greatness  does  not 
consider  it  degradation  to  stoop, — it  condescends  to 
the  meanest ;  and  the  loftier  our  conceptions  of  God- 
head, the  readier  shall  we  be  to  believe  that  he  did 
that  wondrous  thing — take  '  upon  him  the  form  of  a 
servant,  and  become  obedient  unto  death/ '' 

''  Sometimes  the  doubts  which  harass  the  minds  of 
men  may  be  dispersed  by  looking  at  them  boldly,  and 
shaking  them  to  tatters  with  the  manly  arguments 
which  such  men  as  Butler  have  bequeathed  to  us ; 
sometimes  they  may  be  the  result  of  an  immoral 
condition  of  mind  and  of  permitted  sin,  and  may 
chiefly  require  purity  of  life  to  cause  them  to  vanish ; 
sometimes  they  may  indicate  the  need  of  active  work 
to  check  an  over-tendency  to  speculation,  where 
demonstration  is  impossible,  and  where  the  mind  is 
therefore  led  to  prey  upon  itself;  but  sometimes  also 
they  may  be  of  a  kind  which  will  yield  most  easily  to 
the  influence  produced  upon  the  thoughts  by  solemn 
worship."  ^^  Is  it  not  true  that  sometimes  the  phan- 
toms which  haunt  a  man  in  a  book  disappear  when  he 
falls  upon  his  knees  ?  Are  there  not  at  least  some 
idols  which  break  to  pieces  when  set  up  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  true  God  ?  And  may  not  eyes,  to  which 
the  vision  of  Christ's  glory  has  been  dimmed,  be  some- 
times most  speedily  purged  and  restored  by  earnest 
application  to  Him,  whose  gracious  will  it  is  that  his 
disciples  should  enjoy  his  presence,  and  should  behold 
his  glory  ?  In  fact,  may  not  a  mind  which  has  been 
confused  by  speculation,  and  harassed  by  doubts,  some- 
times recover  its  tone  by  crying  out  to  Him  who  loved 

us,  and  washed  us  from   our  sins  in  his  own  blood, 

27* 


318  CONFLICT    WITH    DOUBT. 

^0   Lamb  of  God,  that  takest  away  the  sins  of  the 
world,  grant  us  thy  peace  ?'  " 

"  Not  seldom,  clad  in  radiant  vest, 
Deceitfully  goes  forth  the  morn; 
Not  seldom  evening  in  the  west 
Sinks  smilingly  forsworn. 

"  The  smoothest  seas  will  sometimes  prove 
To  the  confiding  bark  untrue  ; 
And  if  she  trust  the  stars  above, 
They  can  be  treacherous  too. 

"Th'  umbrageous  oak,  in  pomp  outspread, 
Full  oft,  when  storms  the  welkin  rend, 
Draws  lightning  down  upon  the  head 
It  promised  to  defend. 

"  But  thou  art  true,  incarnate  Lord, 
Who  didst  vouchsafe  for  man  to  die ; 
Thy  smile  is  sure,  thy  plighted  word 
'  No  change  can  falsify. 

"  I  bent  before  thy  gracious  throne, 

And  ask'd  for  peace  with  suppliant  knee  ; 
And  peace  was  given— nor  peace  alone. 
But  faith,  and  hope,  and  ecstasy." 


CHAPTER    III. 

CONFLICT  WITH  SUFFERING  AND 
DEATH, 

Contents. — Jesus  Christ  a  man  of  sorrows — Their  variety  and 
iutenseness  —  Stoicism  —  Socrates — Lessons  from  Christ — 
Christ's  religion  areligion  of  joy — The  proto-martyr  Stephen 
— Paul  as  a  suflFerer — Common  principles — The  early  church 
— Pliny  the  Younger— Patrick  Hamilton — Madame  Guyon — 
Martyrs  in  Madagascar — In  India — The  ordinary  afflictions 
of  life — Bereavements — Aaron,  Eli,  Job — Captain  Allen 
Gardiner — Richard  Williams — No  man  dieth  to  himself— The 
principle  of  Scripture  Biography — Details  of  the  death  of 
Stephen  and  of  Christ — Conflicts  of  Thomas  Ward — Triumph 
of  Dr.  Payson — The  one  Foundation — Conclusion. 


"  Though  He  were  a  son,  yet  learned  he  obedience  by  the  things  which  he 
suffered ;  aud  being  made  perfect,  he  became  the  author  of  eternal  salvation 
unto  all  them  that  obey  him." — Hkbbbws  v.  8,  9. 

319 


"The  word  'tribulation'  is  derived  from  the  Latin  'tribulum,'— that 
word  signifying  the  thrashing  instrument,  or  roller,  by  which  the  Romans 
separated  the  corn  from  the  husks ;  and  '  tribulatio'  in  its  primary  signifi- 
cance, was  the  act  of  this  separation.  But  some  Latin  writer  of  the 
Christian  church  appropriated  the  word  and  image  for  the  setting  forth  of  a 
higher  truth ;  and  sorrow,  and  distress,  and  adversity  being  the  appointed 
means  for  the  separating  in  men  of  their  chaff  from  their  wheat,  of  what- 
ever in  them  was  light,  and  trivial,  and  poor,  from  the  solid  and  the  true, 
therefore  he  called  these  sorrows  and  griefs  '  tribulations,'  thrashings,  that 
is,  of  the  inner  spiritual  man,  without  which  there  could  be  no  fitting  him 
for  the  heavenly  garner." 

Dean  Trench. 


"  In  the  wide  city's  peopled  towers, 
On  the  vast  ocean's  plains. 
Midst  the  deep  woodland's  loneliest  bowers, 
Alike  the  Almighty  reigns. 

"  Then  fear  not,  though  the  angry  sky 
A  thousand  darts  should  cast; 
Why  shoiild  we  tremble  e'en  to  die, 
And  be  with  him  at  last  V* 

Mrs. 
320 


CONFLICT  WITH  SUFFERING 
AND  DEATH. 

Our  great  Exemplar  did  not  shrink  from  the 
"  fight  of  afflictions."  He  was  of  the  house  and 
lineage  of  David,  according  to  the  flesh ;  but  the  royal 
family  had,  long  before  his  birth,  been  reduced  to  a 
condition  of  poverty  and  obscurity.  The  royal  tree, 
whose  mighty  branches  had  spread  from  the  Mediter- 
ranean to  the  Euphrates,  was  cut  down,  and  nothing 
but  the  stem  of  Jesse  remained,  and  that  buried  and 
out  of  sight.  And  it  was  from  this  stem  that  the  Lord 
Jesus  sprang,  the  heir  of  a  more  glorious  throne  than 
that  of  his  father  David,  but  born  in  poverty  and 
sorrow  : — 

"  Cold  on  his  cradle  the  dewdrops  are  shining, 
Low  lies  his  bed  with  the  beasts  of  the  stall." 

The  stable  and  the  manger  were  a  strange  home  for 
the  world's  Creator.  But  the  world  grudged  him 
even  these,  and  would  have  given  him  nothing  but  a 
grave.  Herod  sought  the  child's  life,  which  was 
saved  only  by  flight  into  the  land  of  the  ancient 
enemy  of  Israel,  "  his  own"  receiving  him  more 
inhospitably  than  the  stranger.  When,  on  Herod's 
death,  he  was  carried  back,  still  a  babe  in  his  mother's 
arms,  to  the  land  of  Judaea,  there  was  still  no  safety 
for  him  there,  and  he  became  a  sojourner  in  the 
meanest  of  the  petty  towns  of  Galilee.  Thence  he 
acquired  a  title  which,  by  its  singular  force,  repre- 

(321) 


322        CONFLICT  WITH  SUFFERING. 

sented  the  pith  and  purport  of  many  an  ancient  pro- 
phecy.* Fitly  was  he  called  a  Nazarene,  of  whom  it 
had  been  said  of  old,  "  He  is  despised  and  rejected  of 
men,  a  man  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief; 
and  we  hid  as  it  were  our  faces  from  him ;  he  was 
despised,  and  we  esteemed  him  not;''"}"  and  who  had 
described  his  own  condition  in  prophecy  thus  : — "  I 
am  a  worm,  and  no  man;  a  reproach  of  men,  and 
despised  of  the  people. "J  Yea,  he  may  be  called  a 
Nazarene  of  the  Nazarenes.  Despised  as  was  Naza- 
reth by  its  neighbours,  he  was  despised  by  Nazareth 
itself.  And  why  ?  Not  that  his  life  was  more  toil- 
some, or  his  condition  poorer,  than  that  of  many 
around  him  ;  but  there  was  a  something,  an  unearthly 
beauty,  about  him,  which  their  hearts  were  too  gross 
to  understand ;  and  because  they  could  not  understand 
it,  they  despised  it. 

And  this  introduces  us  to  a  life-long  sorrow  of  the 
heart  of  Jesus, — that  which  arises  from  the  want  of 
common  tastes  and  congenial  habits.  Let  him  turn  to 
what  class  of  the  community  he  pleased,  he  could  find 
nothing  in  sympathy  with  the  most  sacred  thoughts 
and  feelings  of  his  own  heart.  Priest  and  people, 
ruler  and  subject,  rich  and  poor,  were  alike  earthly 
and  sensual.  But  his  heart  was  the  very  shrine  of 
God, — full  of  thoughts  and  feelings  that  were  divine  and 
pure.  So  that  by  the  very  necessity  of  his  character 
he  was  isolated  from  all  around  him.  This  must  have 
been  to  him  a  perpetual  sorrow.  There  are  who,  when 
isolated  from  their  neighbours  by  uncongenial  tastes, 
look  down  on  them  with  contempt,  and,  in  proud 
strength  of  soul,  wrap  their  cloaks  around  them  and 
find  a  miserable  heaven  in  sullen  misanthropy.     But 

*  Matthew  ii.  20—23.  f  Isaiah  liii.  3.  $  Psalm  xiii.  6. 


THE    MAN    OF    SORROWS.  323 

Jesus  Christ  was  not  one  of  these.  He  was  the  truest 
as  well  as  the  purest  man  that  ever  lived — the  truest 
to  all  the  original  instincts  and  all  the  best  sensi- 
bilities of  our  nature.  And  he  could  not  live,  a  man 
among  men,  and  find  himself  separated  from  them  by 
the  wide  gulf  of  alien  thoughts  and  sentiments,  with- 
out deep  and  constant  pain.  How  his  heart  yearned 
for  the  sympathy  of  his  fellows  we  see  in  his  words  to 
his  disciples  in  Gethsemane,  when,  though  he  most 
needed  their  sympathy,  he  might  be  supposed  to  be 
most  independent  of  it — "  What,  could  ye  not  watch 
with  me  one  hour  ?" 

This  separation  from  men  aflfected  Christ  in  other 
ways  as  well.  Their  pollution  filled  him  with  loathing, 
and  their  guilt  with  compassion.  If  Lot's  righteous 
soul,  with  all  its  imperfections,  was  vexed  day  by  day 
with  the  words  and  practices  of  the  wicked  men  of 
Sodom,  how  shall  we  estimate  the  grief  of  Christ's 
spotless  soul  in  daily  converse  with  the  men  of  a  place 
out  of  which  even  its  neighbours  could  not  imagine 
any  good  thing  to  come  ?  The  thirty  years  he  spent 
there  must  have  been  one  protracted  crucifixion, 
endured  in  inward  silence,  but  with  inward  anguish. 
And  when  he  entered  on  his  public  ministry,  he  had 
still  the  same  sorrow  to  bear.  The  Koman  yoke  was 
the  least  of  the  ills  by  which  his  country  was  oppressed. 
The  yoke  of  Satan  was  more  oppressive  by  far.  The 
whole  head  was  sick,  and  the  whole  heart  faint.  From 
the  sole  of  the  foot  even  unto  the  head,  there  was  no 
soundness  in  it,  but  wounds,  and  bruises,  and  putrefy- 
ing sores.*  The  Pharisee,  and  the  Sadducee,  and  the 
Herodian,  and  the  Zealot,  and  the  Essene  presented 
but   difTerent   phases    of    the    common    malady,   and 

*  Isaiah  i.  5,  6. 


324  CONFLICT   WITH    SUFFERING. 

different  types  of  the  vain  endeavours  which  were 
made  to  heal  it.  And  when  Jesus  would  close  the 
wound,  and  bind  it  up,  and  mollify  it  by  a  divine  oint- 
ment which  he  had  brought  from  heaven,  and  whose 
efficacy  was  certain,  he  met  with  nothing  but  opposi- 
tion and  scorn.  Men  would  rather  die  of  their  disease 
than  have  Christ's  haad  to  touch  their  souls. 

Very  soon  after  the  commencement  of  his  public 
ministry,  he  entered  the  synagogue  of  Nazareth,  and, 
in  the  hearing  of  those  who  had  witnessed  his  pure 
life  from  infancy,  read  these  words  of  the  book  of  the 
prophet  Isaiah,  "  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  God  is  upon 
me,  because  he  hath  anointed  me  to  preach  the  gospel 
to  the  poor;  he  hath  sent  me  to  heal  the  broken- 
hearted, to  preach  deliverance  to  the  captives,  and 
recovery  of  sight  to  the  blind,  to  set  at  liberty  them 
that  are  bruised,  to  preach  the  acceptable  year  of  the 
Lord."*  And  having  read  these  words,  he  began  to 
say  unto  them,  "  This  day  is  this  Scripture  fulfilled  in 
your  ears."  Then  followed  words  so  gracious  that 
the  people  wondered.  But  their  unbelief  rose  above 
their  wonder ;  and  the  strange  issue  of  it  was,  that 
they  were  filled  with  wrath,  and  thrust  him  out  of  the 
city,  and  led  him  to  the  brow  of  the  hill  whereon 
their  city  was  built,  that  they  might  cast  him  down 
headlong.  And  it  was  only  by  a  miraculous  power 
he  was  delivered  from  their  hands. 

We  may  take  this  one  incident  as  a  fair  and 
faithful  representative  of  the  general  treatment 
Christ  met  with  in  seeking  to  bless  and  save  the 
lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel.  And  how  he  felt 
in  contemplating  the  doom  which  Israel  was  incurring, 
we  know  from  his  own  words, — "  0  Jerusalem,  Jeru- 

*Luke  iv.  18—21. 


THE   TEARS    OF   CHRIST.  325 

salem,  which  killest  the  prophets,  and  stonest  them 
that  are  sent  unto  thee ;  how  often  would  I  have 
gathered  thy  children  together,  as  a  hen  doth  gather 
her  brood  under  her  wings,  and  ye  would  not ! 
Behold,  your  house  is  left  unto  you  desolate ;  and 
verily  I  say  unto  you,  Ye  shall  not  see  me,  until  the 
time  come  when  ye  shall  say,  Blessed  is  he  that 
Cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord/'  These  words  he 
uttered  on  two  occasions ;  *  and  they  were  doubtless 
oftener  in  his  heart  than  on  his  lips  ;  the  shape  into 
which  his  thoughts  moulded  the  burden  of  his  inmost 
soul.  When  crossing  the  Mount  of  Olives  on  his 
way  from  Bethany  to  Jerusalem,  on  the  first  day  of 
that  sad  but  busy  week  which  preceded  his  death,  we 
are  told  that  when  he  beheld  the  city,  as  he  descended 
the  slopes  of  Olivet,  he  wept  over  it,  saying,  "  If  thou 
hadst  known,  even  thou,  at  least  in  this  thy  day,  the 
things  which  belong  unto  thy  peace  !  but  now  they 
are  hid  from  thine  eyes.  For  the  days  shall  come 
upon  thee,  that  thine  enemies  shall  cast  a  trench 
about  thee,  and  compass  thee  round,  and  keep  thee 
in  on  every  side,  and  shall  lay  thee  even  with  the 
ground,  and  thy  children  within  thee ;  and  they  shall 
not  leave  in  thee  one  stone  upon  another ;  because 
thou  knewest  not  the  time  of  thy  visitation."  f  In 
those  tears  there  were  mingled  a  divine  displeasure 
towards  the  guilty,  a  divine  loathing  towards  the  de- 
praved, and  a  divine  compassion  towards  the  miserable. 
Guilt,  depravity,  and  misery,  awakened  each  its  corre- 
sponding emotion  in  the  breast  of  Jesus ;  and  hence  the 
bitterness  of  the  tears  which  he  shed  over  the  lost  city. 
The  treatment  to  which  Christ's  moral  separation 
from  the   people  and  holy  work  for   their  good  sub- 

*  Matthew  xxiii.  37  ;  Luke  xiii.  34.  f  Luke  xix.  41 — 44. 


326  CONFLICT   WITH   SUFFERING. 

jected  him  affected  him  in  another  way,  of  which  we 
have  fuller  intimations  in  the  prophetic  Psalms  than 
in  the  history  itself.  The  manner  in  which  "  the  con- 
tradiction of  sinners"  often  expressed  itself  entered  as 
iron  into  his  human  soul,  as  we  see  by  the  lamentations 
and  cries  of  the  sixty-ninth  Psalm. 

The  common  ills  of  life,  as  suffered  by  others, 
affected  Christ's  heart  deeply.  When  the  people 
followed  him,  we  read  how  "  he  was  moved  with  com- 
passion towards  them,  and  healed  their  sick ;"  *  and  in 
that  inimitable  story  of  Lazarus  and  his  sisters,  we 
find  his  very  heart  laid  bare  to  us,  full  of  sympathy 
and  sorrow.  "  Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been  here,"  said 
the  two  sisters,  the  one  after  the  other,  "  my  brother 
had  not  died."  "  When  Jesus,  therefore,  saw  Mary 
weeping,  and  the  Jews  also  weeping  which  came  with 
her,  he  groaned  in  the  spirit  and  was  troubled,  and 
said.  Where  have  ye  laid  him  ?  They  said  unto  him, 
Lord,  come  and  see.  Jesus  wept.  Then  said  the  Jews, 
Behold  how  he  loved  him  T'f  It  was  love  that  moved 
him,  and  love  drew  many  tears  from  his  eyes  which  no 
witness  ever  saw.  The  sorrows  of  others  were  a  con- 
tinual sorrow  to  him. 

There  was  one  of  the  ills  of  life  which  Christ  had 
to  endure  personally — life-long  poverty.  We  greatly 
mistake  if  we  think  that,  because  he  could  convert 
stones  into  bread,  or  multiply  a  few  loaves  into  many, 
his  poverty  was  only  imaginary.  It  was  most  real, 
and  was  ever  felt  as  a  real  ill.  His  heart  and  lips 
were  too  truthful  to  misguide  men,  and  these  lips  said, 
*'  The  foxes  have  holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  have 
nests  ;  but  the  Son  of  man  hath  not  where  to  lay  his 
head."  J     He  could  have  ordered  it  otherwise,  it  is 

*  Matthew  xiv.  14.  f  John  xi.  32—36.  f  Matthew  viii.  20, 


THE   SHADOW   OP   THE   CROSS.  327 

true.  He  had  only  to  speak  the  word,  and  legions  of 
angels  would  have  ministered  to  him.  But  he  did  not 
speak  the  word.  He,  who  was  rich,  for  our  sakes 
became  poor.  He  wore  the  poor  man's  dress  ;  he  ate 
the  poor  man's  food  ;  and  for  years  he  had  not  even 
the  poor  man's  home.  All  this  was  voluntary,  but  it 
was  real.  He  needed  not,  but  for  his  love  to  us,  to 
subject  himself  to  these  privations.  But  he  did  sub- 
ject himself  to  them  ;  and  he  felt  them  as  keenly  and 
sensitively  as  we  can  do.  He  was  "  a  man  of  sorrows, 
and  acquainted  with  grief." 

But  perhaps  the  chief  of  all  his  sorrows  was  the 
shadow  of  the  cross  which  covered  his  path  from  the 
very  beginning.  In  what  has  been  called  "  the  crape- 
covered  mirror"  of  the  fifty-third  of  Isaiah,  the 
Saviour  beheld  the  reflection  of  himself,  and  saw,  long 
before  they  arrived,  the  days  of  his  sorrow.  When 
in  early  life  he  said,  "  I  must  be  about  my  Father's 
business,"  he  knew  the  altar  to  which  his  Father's 
will  was  leading  him  on.  Again  and  again  he  referred 
to  that  altar.  "  As  Moses  lifted  up  the  serpent  in  the 
wilderness,  even  so  must  the  Son  of  Man  be  lifted  up." 
''  When  ye  have  lifted  up  the  Son  of  man,  then  shall 
ye  know  that  I  am  he,  and  that  I  do  nothing  of 
myself."  "  And  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up  from  the  earth, 
will  draw  all  men  unto  me."  *  The  Son  of  man 
is  come  "  to  give  his  life  a  ransom  for  many."  f 
"  I  have  a  baptism  to  be  baptized  with ;  and  how 
am  I  straitened  till  it  be  accomplished  !"J  "  The 
Son  of  man  must  suffer  many  things,  and  be  rejected 
of  the  elders  and  chief  priests  and  scribes,  and  be 
slain,  and  be   raised   the   third  day."  §     And   when, 

*  John  iii.  14  ;  viii.  28 ;  xii.  32.  f  Matthew  xx,  28. 

X  Luke  xii.  50.  2  Luke  ix.  22. 


328  CONFLICT   WITH    SUFFERING. 

eight  days  after  the  last  of  these  sayings  was  uttered, 
Moses  and  Elias  were  sent  from  heaven  to  commune 
with  him,  the  subject  of  which  they  talked,  even  in 
the  hour  of  the  glory  of  his  transfiguration,  was  "  his 
decease  which  he  should  accomplish  at  Jerusalem."  * 
Thus  did  the  shadow  of  the  cross  fall  on  his  path  every- 
where, and  cover  his  soul  with  sadness. 

When  the  time  drew  near,  this  shadow  became 
darker  and  darker,  until,  in  Gethsemane,  it  covered 
him  with  the  blackness  of  death.  Into  a  garden 
which  was  there,  hallowed  by  former  conflicts  and 
prayers,  "  he  took  with  him  Peter  and  the  two  sons 
of  Zebedee,  and  began  to  be  sorrowful  and  very 
heavy.  Then  saith  he  unto  them.  My  soul  is  ex- 
ceeding sorrowful,  even  unto  death ;  tarry  ye  here, 
and  watch  with  me.  He  went  away  again  the  second 
time,  and  prayed,  saying,  0  my  Father,  if  this  cup  may 
not  pass  away  from  me,  except  I  drink  it,  thy  will  be 
done.  And  he  came  and  found  them  asleep  again  : 
for  their  eyes  were  heavy.  And  he  left  them,  and 
went  away  again,  and  prayed  the  third  time,  saying 
the  same  words.  Then  cometh  he  to  his  disciples, 
and  saith  unto  them,  Sleep  on  now,  and  take  your 
rest :  behold,  the  hour  is  at  hand,  and  the  Son  of  man 
is  betrayed  into  the  hands  of  sinners.  Kise,  let  us  be 
going  :  behold,  he  is  at  hand  that  doth  betray  me."  f 
"  And  he  was  withdrawn  from  them  about  a  stone's 
cast,  and  kneeled  down,  and  prayed,  saying.  Father, 
if  thou  be  willing,  remove  this  cup  from  me  :  never- 
theless not  my  will,  but  thine,  be  done.  And  there 
appeared  an  angel  unto  him  from  heaven,  strengthening 
him.  And  being  in  an  agony,  he  prayed  more  earn- 
estly, and  his  sweat  was  as  it  were   great  drops  of 

*  Luke  ix.  31.  f  Matthew  xxvii.  36 — 46. 


GETHSEMANE.  329 

blood  falling  down  to  the  ground.  And  when  he  rose 
up  from  prayer,  and  was  come  to  his  disciples,  he 
found  them  sleeping  for  sorrow,  and  said  unto  them, 
Why  sleep  ye  ?  Rise  and  pray,  lest  ye  enter  into 
temptation."  * 

The  grand  object  of  the  Saviour's  sufferings  was  to 
make  atonement  for  the  sins  of  men.  But  we  are 
looking  at  them  at  present  only  in  relation  to  the 
example  which  he  has  left  us  as  a  sufferer.  And,  thus 
considered,  the  conflict  and  triumph  of  Gethsemane 
are  fraught  with  light  and  comfort.  "  If  we  look  into 
the  Saviour's  heart,  we  shall  see  how  a  ye^  and  a  no 
are  in  conflict  there,  as  he  realizes  the  hour  when  his 
own  extremest  suffering  and  his  people's  extremest 
guilt  shall  be  brought  awfully  near  to  each  other.'' 
"  The  cup  is  bitter,  and,  in  view  of  its  bitterness, 
purely  human  feeling  can  never  do  otherwise  than  re- 
fuse or  be  unwilling  to  drink  it.  But  he  lets  a  little 
drop  fall  into  the  cup,  which  is  sufficient  to  make  its 
contents  sweet,  and  that  drop  is,  '  God  wills  it.'  The 
very  point  of  conflict  is  to  make  the  Divine  sweet- 
ness transfuse  the  human  bitterness.  And  so  when 
Christ  says,  '■  Rise,  let  us  be  going,'  the  bitterness  has 
been  swallowed  up  by  the  sweetness."  The  decision 
cost  our  Lord  a  struggle.  But  in  the  struggle  he 
sinned  not.  The  adversary  gained  no  advantage.  The 
no  with  which  his  nature  shrank  from  suffering  was 
in  itself  as  sinless  as  the  ye&  with  which  he  submitted 
himself  to  his  Father's  will.  ''  As  the  rising  sun, 
before  which  a  morning  storm  lay  gloomily  piled, 
comes  forth  in  majesty  when  the  storm  is  over,  and 
in  cloudless  glory  ^  flames  in  the  forehead  of  the 
morning  sky  j'  so  the  incarnate  Sun  of  righteousness 

*  Luke  xxii.  41—46. 
28* 


330  CONFLICT   WITH  SUFFERING. 

rises  in  calm  majesty  from  behind  the  clouds  of  sor- 
row which  had  surrounded  him.  Jesus  comes  for- 
ward from  the  interior  of  the  garden,  and  advances 
into  the  presence  of  his  betrayer  and  his  judges/' 
But  his  suflferings  were  not  yet  ended.  Gethsemane 
only  foreshadowed  Calvary.  And  when  Calvary  is 
mentioned,  the  whole  story  of  the  cross  pictures 
itself  before  the  reader's  mind.  The  purple  robe, 
and  the  crown  of  thorns,  and  the  mock  sceptre,  the 
cruel  scourging  and  the  heavy  cross,  the  nails  and  the 
spear,  and,  above  all,  that  mystery  of  sorrow  which 
wrung  his  heart  when  he  exclaimed,  ''  My  God,  my 
God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  V  "  Behold  and  see 
if  there  be  any  sorrow  like  unto  his  sorrow."  Nowhere 
else  has  any  son  of  man  bought  at  such  a  price  a  title 
to  be  called,  "The  man  of  sorrows.'' 

Such  being  the  suflferings  of  our  great  Exemplar, 
let  us  see  how  he  bore  them.  We  are  struck  at  once 
by  the  absence  of  everything  bordering  on  stoicism. 
The  Stoics  regarded  the  passions  and  affections  as  sin- 
ful defects  and  irregularities, — as  so  many  deviations 
from  right  reason.  "  Sorrow,  in  their  esteem,  was  a 
sin  scarcely  to  be  expiated ;  to  pity,  was  a  fault ;  to 
rejoice,  an  extravagance;  and  the  apostle's  advice,  'to 
be  angry  and  sin  not,'  was  a  contradiction  in  their 
philosophy.  To  us  let  this  be  sufficient,  that  our  Sa- 
viour Christ;  who  took  upon  him  all  our  natural  infir- 
mities, but  none  of  our  sinful,  has  been  seen  to  weep, 
to  be  sorrowful,  to  pity,  and  to  be  angry ;  which  shows 
that  there  might  be  gall  in  a  dove,  passion  without 
sin,  and  motion  without  disturbance." 

Socrates  was  no  professed  Stoic,  but  before  Ms 
death-struggle  there  was  no  Gethsemane.  The  dif- 
ference between   the  illustrious   Greek  and  the  great 


SOCRATES.  331 

Saviour  cannot  be  wholly  explained  without  reference 
to  the  expiation  which  Christ  was  accomplishing  by 
his  death.  Without  such  reference  the  bloody  sweat 
of  Gethsemane,  and  the  agonizing  cry  of  Calvary,  would 
reflect  on  his  inward  strength  and  manliness  and 
faith.  But  the  light-heartedness  of  Socrates  is  not  to 
his  honour  even  as  a  man.  More  of  heart  and  feeling 
would  have  shown  a  truer  man.  "  Do  you  ask/'  says 
Tholuck,  "  why  that  man  whom  no  fainting  of  spirit, 
no  bloody  sweat  awaits,  why  with  such  a  calm  smile 
of  irony  he  takes  the  cup  of  poison  which  his  ac- 
cusers, in  the  bitterness  of  their  hate,  present  to  him  ? 
He  was  great  indeed,  that  greatest  among  the  heathen 
that  know  not  God;  but,  in  that  cold  smile  on  the  very 
verge  of  that  last,  that  most  momentous  step  which 
man  can  take,  I  find  not  his  greatness.  It  does 
indeed  appear  great  that  he  did  not  tremble  at  the 
step  he  was  taking  into  a  land  which  to  him  was 
really  a  land  unknown,  which  was  disclosed  to  him 
only  by  the  faint  and  feeble  light  of  a  presentiment  of 
the  heart.  But,  had  he  not  been  greater  still,  if,  even 
in  him,  who,  with  all  his  wisdom,  was  after  all  but  a 
sinful  child  of  man,  the  thought  that  he  must  stand 
before  his  Judge  had  driven  the  blood  quicker  and 
hotter  through  his  veins  ?  Had  he  not  been  greater, 
if  a  feeling  of  pitying  sympathy  for  the  guilt  which 
his  accusers  were  incurring,  and  for  the  blindness 
of  his  fellow-countrymen,  had  crimsoned  his  cheek 
and  darkened  his  brow  with  sorrow  ?  But  the  man 
who,  in  the  days  of  his  life,  instead  of  pitying  the 
sinners,  has  ironically  laughed  at  the  fools,  such  a 
one  will  find  something  to  smile  at  even  in  the  deepest 
blindness  of  his  people.  Oh !  the  guilt  of  such  is 
indeed  not  once  to  be  measured  with  the  guilt  of  the 


332  CONFLICT   WITH   SUFFERING. 

chosen  people,  that  people  who  outraged  him  on 
whom  all  the  promises  hung,  the  holy  Lamb  of  God; 
and  yet  had  there  been  in  the  heart  of  the  Grecian 
sage  but  a  spark  of  the  holy  sympathy  of  Jesus  with 
sinful  humanity,  surely  then  a  shadow  of  sorrow  must 
have  passed  over  the  smiling  countenance.  No ;  the 
Saviour  could  not  have  been  so  holy,  so  loving,  and  so 
great,  and  the  guilt  of  his  murderers  could  not  have 
been  so  enormous  as  it  was,  had  he  thought  on  that 
hour  without  the  sweat  of  agony,  or  had  he  gone  to 
meet  it  with  only  that  horror  of  death  which  all  the 
other  children  of  men  experience." 

Deeply  as  our  Saviour  felt  his  sufferings,  they  never 
once  awakened  a  sentiment  bordering  on  misan- 
thropy. He  was  not  insensible  to  the  foul  ingratitude 
and  the  malignant  wickedness  of  his  enemies;  and 
sometimes  he  addressed  them  in  words  of  severity 
scathing  as  the  lightning  flash.  But  love  was  the 
moving  impulse  of  the  severe  as  well  as  of  the  tender 
in  all  his  intercourse  with  men.  And,  apart  from  its 
consummation  in  the  offering  of  himself  for  the  guilty, 
the  personal  sentiments  with  which  it  inspired  him 
found  glorious  expression  in  the  prayer,  "  Father,  for- 
give them ;  for  they  know  not  what  they  do." 

The  most  obvious  lesson  which  Christ  has  taught 
us  by  the  manner  in  which  he  bore  his  sufferings  is 
the  duty  of  submission  and  patience.  "  Ye  have 
heard  of  the  patience  of  Job,"  says  the  apostle 
James.  It  was  very  great,  and  yet  not  compar- 
able to  that  of  Jesus  Christ.  In  all  ''  the  fight  of 
afflictions"  which  Christ  fought,  there  arose  no  senti- 
ment of  wrath  towards  man,  and  no  sentiment  of 
rebellion  against  his  Father  in  heaven.  "  He  was 
oppressed,  and  he  was  afflicted,  yet  he  opened  not  his 


SILENCE   OF   CHRIST.  333 

mouth  :  he  is  brought  as  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter,  and 
as  a  sheep  before  her  shearers  is  dumb,  so  he  openeth 
not  his  mouth."*  In  his  words  to  the  traitor,  "  Be- 
trayest  thou  the  Son  of  man  with  a  kiss  ?"  there  was 
indicated  a  "  divine  repose"  of  spirit.  There  was  no 
ebullition  of  anger;  the  pure  mirror  of  his  holy  soul 
was  never  once  ruffled  by  the  storm  of  human 
passion.  In  the  history  of  his  trial  before  Pilate,  his 
silence  is  thrice  remarked  on,"!"  "When  he  was  re- 
viled, he  reviled  not  again ;  when  he  suffered,  he 
threatened  not,  but  committed  himself  to  him  that 
judgeth  righteously."  He  was  conscious  of  his  own 
rectitude,  and  equally  conscious  that,  before  such  a 
judge  and  with  such  accusers,  words  would  be  of  no 
avail.  "  False  accusation  causes  the  sickened  heart 
to  boil  with  agitation ;"  and  yet  Jesus  answered  them 
only  by  silence.  When  words  were  necessary  for  the 
interests  of  both,  he  used  them  ;  but  his  words  were 
calm  and  sublime  as  his  silence  itself.  When  Pilate 
said,  "  Speakest  thou  not  unto  me  ?  knowest  thou  not 
that  I  have  power  to  crucify  thee,  and  have  power  to 
release  thee?"  Jesus  told  him  that  the  scales  of  jus- 
tice were  committed  to  him  by  a  higher  hand.  When 
the  high  priest  said  to  him,  "  I  adjure  thee  by  the 
living  God,  that  thou  tell  us  whether  thou  be  the 
Christ,  the  Son  of  God,"  Jesus  spoke  and  testified, 
"Thou  hast  said."  When  Pilate  asked  him,  "Art 
thou  a  king?"  Jesus  spoke  and  testified  again, 
"  Thou  sayest  I  am  a  king."  And  when  before  the 
high  priest  one  of  the  servants  struck  him  with  the 
palm  of  his  hand  and  said,  "  Answerest  thou  the  high 
priest  so  ?"  here  again  Jesus  was  not  silent,  but 
answered,  "  If  I  have  spoken  evil,  bear  witness  of  the 

*  Isaiah  liii.  7.  f  Matthew  xxvi.  62;  Luke  xxiii.  8,  9;  John  six.  9. 


334  CONFLICT   WITH   SUFFERTNa. 

evil;  but  if  well,  why  smitest  thou  me  V  Only  in  this 
last  iustance  does  Jesus  even  seem  to  have  cared  for 
his  personal  defence.  But  we  see  in  bis  words  an 
assertion  of  his  judicial  rights  not  unlike  that  of  Paul 
when  he  pleaded  his  rights  as  a  Roman  citizen  at 
Philippi ;  and  we  see  in  them  not  only  a  rebuke  of 
unjust  violence,  but  an  act  of  grace  towards  the  man 
that  was  guilty  of  it.  That  man  was  not  seared  and 
hardened,  like  his  masters ;  he  was  but  an  ignorant 
servant,  and  committed  the  outrage  in  erring  zeal  for 
a  consecrated  office.  With  such  a  man  Jesus  con- 
descends to  reason.  But  he  did  it  in  the  spirit  of 
meekness,  and  not  as  one  disturbed  by  insult. 

Such  is  the  holy  pattern  of  patience  of  the  "  Lamb 
of  God/^  Whoever  loves  him,  whoever  glows  at  the 
contemplation  of  that  spotless  Lamb,  as  he  stands 
before  his  judges  in  the  majesty  of  silence,  oh  !  let  him 
learn  to  calm  the  passion  of  his  breast,  let  him  learn  to 
pacify  the  rising  of  his  anger,  when  unjustly  accused. 

The  religion  of  Christ  is  a  religion  of  joy.  The 
wilderness  and  the  solitary  place  are  made  glad  by  it; 
and  the  desert  rejoices  and  blossoms  as  the  rose.  The 
eyes  of  the  blind  are  opened,  and  the  ears  of  the  deaf 
are  unstopped ;  the  lame  man  leaps  as  a  hart,  and 
the  tongue  of  the  dumb  sings ;  for  by  reason  of  it 
copious  waters  break  out  in  the  wilderness,  and 
streams  in  the  desert.  '<  Yet  in  some  respects — in 
its  position  in  the  world,  in  its  tone  of  teaching,  in 
many  of  its  eflfeets  upon  those  who  receive  it — the 
religion  of  Christ  is  eminently  the  religion  of  sorrow. 
It  presupposes  a  corrupt  nature — it  purposes  to 
subdue  it;  this  in  itself  is  a  matter  always  of  no 
slight  difficulty,  often   of  much  anxiety  and  distress. 


STEPHEN.  335 

It  sets  before  us  an  ideal  of  perfection,  which  the 
feebleness  of  our  natural  constitution  has,  perhaps, 
never  allowed  any  one  disciple  to  reach,  but  which 
serves  to  keep  alive  a  perpetual  and  melancholy  sense 
of  deficiency.  It  stands  in  the  midst  of  a  hostile  world 
which  it  condemns,  and  which  assails  ?V." 

Its  founder  was  himself,  as  we  have  seen,  a  man  of 
sorrows  j  and  the  disciple  must  expect  to  be  as  his 
master.  "  In  the  world  ye  shall  have  tribulation," 
said  Christ;  "but  be  of  good  cheer,  I  have  overcome 
the  world. '*  If  we  turn  to  the  earliest  records  of  his 
church,  we  shall  find  how  both  the  tribulation  and 
the  good  cheer  were  realized  in  the  experience  of  his 
followers. 

The  proto  martyr  of  the  Christian  faith  suffered  in 
a  spirit  worthy  of  its  founder.  He  was  "a  man  full 
of  faith  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;"  and  his  enemies 
''  were  not  able  to  resist  the  wisdom  and  spirit  by 
which  he  spake."  The  contrast  is  very  striking  be- 
tween the  indignant  zeal  with  which  he  denounced 
the  sin  of  his  judges,  and  the  forgiving  love  which  he 
showed  to  themselves  when  they  became  his  mur- 
derers. He  first  uttered  a  prayer  for  himself  in  the 
words  of  Jesus  Christ,  which  he  knew  were  spoken 
from  the  cross,  and  which  he  may  himself  have  heard 
from  those  holy  lips.  And  then  deliberately  kneeling 
down,  he  cried,  with  a  loud  voice,  ''Lord,  lay  not  this 
sin  to  their  charge." 

The  death  of  Stephen  is  a  bright  passage  in  the 
earliest  history  of  the  church.  "  Where  in  the  annals 
of  the  church,"  it  has  well  been  said,"  can  we  find 
so  perfect  an  image  of  a  pure  and  blessed  saint  as 
that  which  is  drawn   in  the  concluding  verses  of  the 


336  CONFLICT    WITH    SUFFERING. 

seventh  chapter  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles?  And 
the  brightness  which  invests  the  scene  of  the  martyr's 
last  moments  is  the  more  impressive  from  its  contrast 
with  all  that  has  preceded  it  since  the  crucifixion  of 
Christ.  The  first  apostle  who  died  was  a  traitor. 
The  first  disciples  of  the  Christian  apostles  whose 
deaths  are  recorded  were  liars  and  hypocrites.  The 
kingdom  of  the  Son  of  man  was  founded  in  darkness 
and  gloom ;  but  a  heavenly  light  reappeared  with 
the  martyrdom  of  Stephen.  The  revelation  of  such  a 
character  at  the  moment  of  death  was  the  strongest 
of  all  evidences  and  the  highest  of  all  encourage- 
ments. Nothing  could  more  confidently  assert  the 
divine  power  of  the  new  religion ;  nothing  could 
prophesy  more  surely  the  certainty  of  its  final 
victory.'^* 

From  Stephen  to  Paul  the  transition  is  easy  and 
natural  in  many  respects.  Historically  it  is  so.  The 
false  witnesses,  when  stoning  the  proto-martyr  to 
death,  ''  laid  down  their  clothes  at  a  young  man's  feet 
whose  name  was  Saul."  "And  Saul  was  consenting 
unto  his  death."  A  Spanish  painter,  in  a  picture  of 
Stephen  conducted  to  the  place  of  execution,  has 
represented  Saul  as  walking  by  the  martyr's  side  with 
melancholy  calmness.  He  consents  to  his  death  from 
a  sincere,  though  mistaken  conviction  of  duty  3  and 
the  expression  of  his  countenance  is  strongly  con- 
trasted with  the  rage  of  the  bafiSed  Jewish  doctors 
and  the  ferocity  of  the  crowd  who  flock  to  the  scene 
of  bloodshed.  Paul's  own  after-testimony,  however, 
is,  that  at  this  period,  instead  of  having  any  inward 
relentings,    he   was  ''  exceedingly    mad"  against    the 

*  Conybeare  and  Ilowson's  "Life  of  St.  Paul." 


PAUL   AS   A   SUFFERER.  337 

followers  of  Christ,  a  very  fanatic  in  the  fierceness  of 
his  persecution  of  them.  But  the  painter  worked 
according  to  the  idea  of  his  art  in  throwing  upon  the 
persecutor's  countenance  the  shadow  of  his  coming 
repentance;  and  we  cannot  dissociate  the  martyrdom 
of  Stephen  from  the  conversion  of  Saul.  During 
those  days  of  blindness  and  solitude  at  Damascus,  the 
remembrance  of  the  recently  witnessed  martyrdom  of 
Stephen  must  have  presented  itself  with  peculiar 
power.  The  spectacle  of  so  much  faith,  so  much  con- 
stancy, so  much  love,  could  not  be  lost.  It  is  hardly 
too  much  to  say,  with  Augustine,  that  "  the  church 
owes  Paul  to  the  prayer  of  Stephen." 

Doctrinally  likewise  there  is  a  very  marked  con- 
nection between  Stephen  and  Paul.  In  those  views 
of  the  world-wide  enlargement  of  the  church  of  God, 
and  of  its  entire  freedom  from  Judaism  which  it  was 
the  apostle's  peculiar  mission  to  proclaim,  Stephen  was 
his  forerunner.  But  we  have  to  speak  of  them  now  as 
fellow-suflferers,  called  to  bear  the  same  cross,  and 
bearing  it  in  the  same  unearthly  spirit. 

To  tell  the  tale  of  Paul's  sufferings  would  be  to 
tell  the  tale  of  his  whole  life.  From  the  hour  when 
in  the  darkness  of  the  night  he  was  let  down  in  a 
basket  from  a  window  in  the  outer  wall  of  the  city  of 
Damascus  to  escape  the  murderous  hands  of  those 
Jews  who  watched  the  city  gates  day  and  night  that 
they  might  kill  him,  to  the  hour  when  he  laid  his 
head  down  on  the  block  to  receive  the  stroke  of 
the  Roman  executioner,  his  was  a  life  of  danger  and 
suffering.  Long  before  the  close  of  it  he  wrote  of 
himself  in  these  words,  in  no  spirit  of  boasting,  but  ia 
self-vindication  : — ^'  Are  they  servants  of  Christ?  such 


338  CONFLICT    WITH    SUFFERING. 

far  more  am  I.  In  labours  more  abundant,  in  stripes 
above  measure,  in  prisons  more  frequent,  in  deaths 
oft ;  five  times  I  received  from  the  Jews  the  forty 
stripes  save  one ;  thrice  was  I  scourged  with  rods ; 
once  I  was  stoned  ;  thrice  I  suffered  shipwreck ;  a 
night  and  a  day  I  spent  in  the  open  sea.  In  journey- 
lugs  often ;  in  perils  of  rivers,  in  perils  of  robbers, 
in  perils  from  my  countrymen,  in  perils  from  the 
heathen,  in  perils  in  the  city,  in  perils  in  the  wilder- 
ness, in  perils  in  the  sea,  in  perils  among  false 
brethren;  in  toil  and  weariness,  often  in  sleepless 
watchings ;  in  hunger  and  thirst,  often  without  bread 
to  eat;  in  cold  and  nakedness.  And  besides  all  the 
rest,  that  which  presses  upon  me  daily,  the  care  of  all 
the  churches."  * 

What  a  life  of  incessant  adventure,  toil,  and  danger ! 
The  man  who  passed  through  it,  it  might  be  in- 
ferred, must  have  been  a  man  of  superhuman  physical 
strength.  But  it  was  quite  otherwise.  There  is  good 
evidence  that  the  man  who  endured  and  dared  all  this 
was  a  man  of  small  stature  and  often  of  feeble  health. 
Then  he  must  have  been  a  man  of  bold  daring,  and  of 
a  hard  heart ;  in  short,  a  natural  Stoic.  A  man  of 
bold  daring  doubtless  he  was,  but  a  tenderer  heart 
never  beat  in  human  bosom  than  that  which  beat  in 
his.  No  Stoic  was  the  apostle  Paul.  Never  has 
woman  shed  warmer  tears  than  those  which  flowed 
from  his  eyes.  For  certain,  then,  may  it  be  inferred 
that  his  life  must  have  been  one  of  the  deepest 
misery  ;  he  must  have  trodden  the  earth  in  his  many 
journeys,  from  east  to  west  and  north  to  south, 
under  the  impenetrable  gloom  of  the  shadow  of  death. 
Not  so.     There  is,  indeed,  one  grief  that  haunts  hiui 

*  2  Corinthians  xi.  23—23.    Conybeare. 


PAUL    BEFORE    C^SAR.  839 

everywhere ;  he  is  in  "  continual  sorrow"  because  of 
the  unbelief  of  his  Jewish  brethren.  But  even  with 
this  burden  resting  upon  him,  his  letters,  so  far  as 
they  throw  light  on  his  inmost  soul,  breathe  a  spirit 
of  uniform  healthy  cheerfulness.  Is  it  possible,  how- 
ever, it  may  be  asked,  that  Paul  can  have  passed 
through  thirty  years,  crowded  with  outrage  at  the 
bunds  of  the  nations  which  he  sought  to  bless,  with- 
out at  the  last  becoming  soured  towards  his  kind,  if 
not  impatient  towards  his  Master  ?  We  can  answer 
with  confidence,  that  neither  of  these  evils  befel  his 
spirit.  His  writings  betray  no  trace  of  misanthropy 
from  first  to  last :  his  submission  to  Christ  was  never 
more  cordial  than  when  Christ  in  his  providence  re- 
quired the  surrender  of  his  life. 

Tt  was  about  the  month  of  August,  A.  D.  61,  that 
Paul  entered  Rome,  a  prisoner,  to  be  tried,  on  his 
own  appeal,  before  Caesar.  Twelve  months  probably 
elapsed  before  the  trial  came  on,  and  during  this  long 
period  the  freest  scope  was  allowed  to  his  labours, 
consistent  with  the  military  custody  under  which  he 
was  placed.  And  that  which  seemed  at  first  to  im- 
pede must  really  have  deepened  the  impression  of  his 
eloquence.  "  For  who  could  see  without  emotion 
that  venerable  form  subjected  by  iron  links  to  the 
coarse  control  of  the  soldier  who  stood  beside. him? 
How  often  must  the  tears  of  the  assembly  have  been 
called  forth  by  the  upraising  of  that  fettered  hand, 
and  the  clanking  of  the  chain  which  checked  its  ener- 
getic action  !"  During  this  first  Homan  imprison- 
ment Paul  was  surrounded  by  many  of  his  oldest  and 
most  valued  friends,  who  were  employed  by  him  in 
varied  services  for  Christ,  and  were  a  perpetual  solace 
to  his  heart. 


840  CONFLICT   WITH    SUFFERING. 

In  one  of  his  prison  letters  Paul  expresses  his  hope 
of  a  speedy  liberation.  "  Withal  prepare  me  a  lodg- 
ing," he  wrote  to  Philemon  ;  "  for  1  trust  that  through 
your  prayers  I  shall  be  given  unto  you."  But  cir- 
cumstances occurred  which  greatly  increased  his 
danger.  The  ''  virtuous  Burrus,"  the  pretorian  pre- 
fect under  whose  authority  his  imprisonment  had  been 
so  unusually  mild,  died,  and  was  succeeded  by  a  man 
who  was  already  notorious  for  energetic  wickedness. 
Nero  was  married  at  the  same  time  to  Poppsea,  who 
had  become  a  proselyte  to  Judaism.  This  infamous 
woman,  not  content  with  inducing  Nero  to  divorce 
his  young  wife  Octavia,  had  demanded  and  obtained 
and  gloated  over  the  head  of  her  rival.  Her  power 
seemed  now  to  have  reached  its  zenith,  but  rose  still 
higher  at  the  beginning  of  the  following  year,  upon 
the  birth  of  a  daughter,  when  temples  were  erected 
to  her  and  her  infant,  and  divine  honours  paid  them. 
Poppaea  exerted  her  influence  over  Nero  in  favour  of 
the  Jews,  and  patronized  their  emissaries  at  Rome  j 
and  assuredly  no  scruples  of  humanity  would  prevent 
her  from  seconding  their  demand  for  the  punishment 
of  Paul.  By  what  means  her  influence  was  restrained 
or  counteracted  we  know  not. 

When  brought  before  the  tribunal  of  the  emperor, 
we  njay  be  sure  that  Paul  did  not  quail  or  tremble. 
His  life  was  not  in  the  hands  of  Nero;  he  knew  that, 
while  the  Lord  had  work  for  him  to  do  on  earth,  he 
would  shield  him  from  the  tyrant's  sword  ;  and  if  his 
work  was  over,  how  gladly  would  he  "  depart  and  be 
with  Christ,  which  was  far  better  I"  To  him  all  the 
majesty  of  Roman  despotism  was  nothing  more  than  an 
empty  pageant;  the  imperial  demigod  himself  was  but 
one  of  ''  the  princes  of  this  world  that  come  to  nought." 


Paul's  second  imprisonment.  841 

The  first  trial  of  Paul  issued  in  his  acquittal.  He 
was  pronounced  guiltless  of  the  charges  brought 
against  him  ;  his  fetters  were  struck  off,  and  he  was 
liberated  from  his  long  captivity.  After  five  years  of 
labour,  of  which  we  have  no  record  in  Holy  Scripture, 
we  find  him  a  second  time  a  prisoner  in  Rome.  His 
arrest  took  *  place  probably  not  later  than  mid-winter 
of  A.  D.  67-8,  and  he  was  immediately  hurried  to 
Rome.  This  second  imprisonment  was  evidently 
more  severe  than  the  former.  It  was  dangerous  and 
difficult  to  seek  his  prison  ;  f  so  perilous  to  show  any 
public  sympathy  with  him,  that  no  Christian  ventures 
to  stand  by  him  in  the  court  of  justice. |  And  as  the 
final  stage  of  his  trial  approaches,  he  looks  forward  to 
death  as  his  certain  sentence. § 

There  is  one  precious  document — the  Second  Epistle 
to  Timothy — preserved  to  the  church,  which  was  writ- 
ten at  this  period,  which  throws  light  on  his  sufferings 
and  on  the  spirit  in  which  he  endured  them.  And 
for  this  purpose  there  is  nothing  more  significant  in 
the  epistle  than  a  verse  which  has  often  been  deemed 
so  insignificant  as  to  be  unworthy  of  a  place  in  it. 
He  had  left  his  cloak  with  Carpus  at  Troas,  and  he 
begs  Timothy  to  hasten  before  winter,  and  not  to 
forget  to  bring  it  with  him  !  ||  '*  Jesus  Christ,  also,  on 
the  day  of  his  death,  spoke  of  his  garment  and  his 
vesture.  It  was  after  a  night  of  fatigue  and  anguish. 
He  had  been  led  through  the  streets  of  Jerusalem  by 
torchlight,  from  street  to  street,  from  tribunal  to 
tribunal,  beaten  and  buffeted,  blindfolded  in  mockery, 
and  struck  with  sticks  on  the  head.     The  morrow's 


*  We  follow  Conybeare  and  Howson's  account  of  Paul's  history. 
12  Timothy  i.  16.  1 2  Timothy  iv.  16. 

a  2  Timothy  iv.  6—8.  11 2  Timothy  iv.  13. 

29- 


842  CONFLICT   WITH  SUFFERING. 

sun  had  not  risen  when  they  bound  his  hands  to  lead 
him  further,  from  the  sacerdotal  palace  to  Pilate's 
pretorium.  There,  his  flesh  torn  with  stripes,  bathed 
with,  blood,  then  delivered  over,  in  order  to  his  final 
execution,  into  the  hands  of  ferocious  soldiers,  he  saw 
all  his  clothes  taken  from  him,  that  he  might  be 
arrayed  in  a  purple  robe,  while  people  knelt  before 
him,  and  put  a  reed  in  his  hand,  and  spat  in  his  face. 
Then,  before  placing  the  cross  on  his  torn  limbs,  his 
garments  were  thrown  over  his  wounds,  in  order  to 
his  being  taken  to  Calvary ;  but  when  they  were 
about  to  proceed  to  his  execution,  they  were  taken 
from  him  for  the  third  time ;  and  it  was  then  that, 
spoiled  of  everything,  first  of  his  upper  garment,  then 
of  his  very  inner  vesture,  he  was  to  die  on  the  felon's 
gibbet,  in  view  of  an  immense  concourse  of  people. 
A  thousand  years  before,  in  the  age  of  the  war  of 
Troy,  the  Holy  Spirit  had  dictated  to  the  harp  of 
David  the  words,  '  They  pierced  my  hands  and  my 
feet,  they  look  and  stare  upon  me;  they  part  my 
garments  among  them,  and  cast  lots  upon  my  ves- 
ture.' '' 

Paul,  like  his  master,  was  spoiled  of  everything. 
When  young,  he  was  great  among  men,  a  favourite  of 
priests  and  princes ;  but  he  forsook  all  for  Christ. 
For  thirty  years  and  more  he  has  been  poor ;  he  is 
now  aged;  in  his  last  prison,  in  Rome,  he  is  waiting 
for  the  sentence  of  death.  Immured,  according  to 
tradition,  in  one  of  the  dungeons  of  the  Mamertine 
prison,  winter  is  at  hand,  and  he  is  in  want  of  clothing 
to  protect  him  from  the  cold.  He  had  left  his  cloak 
two  hundred  leagues  off,  and  in  the  chilly  dungeons 
of  Rome  there  was  nobody  to  lend  him  one.  "  We 
were  ourselves  last  year  in   Rome,"  says  Gaussen,  ^'  in 


THE  CLOAK  LEFT  AT  TROAS.        343 

a  hotel,  at  the  beginning  of  November,  on  a  rainy 
day.  With  what  a  lively  feeling,  under  the  chill  im- 
pressions of  the  evening,  did  we  represent  to  ourselves 
the  holy  apostle  Paul  in  the  subterranean  prisons  of 
the  capital,  dictating  the  last  of  his  letters,  expressing 
his  regret  at  the  want  of  his  cloak,  and  begging 
Timothy  to  send  it  to  him  before  winter  I" 

"  Who  is  there  now,''  he  continues,  in  defence  of  the 
inspiration  of  these  Scriptures,  "  that  would  wish  to 
retrench  from  the  inspired  epistles  a  trait  so  affecting 
and  so  pathetic  ?  Does  not  the  Holy  Ghost  take  you 
as  it  were  into  Paul's  prison,  there  to  have  instant 
ocular  evidence  of  his  affectionate  self-renunciation 
and  sublime  poverty  ?  Who  could  tell  the  strength 
and  the  comfort  which,  by  their  very  familiarness  and 
their  actuality,  they  may  have  carried  into  prisons 
and  cottages?  Who  could  reckon  up  the  poor  men 
and  the  martyrs  to  whom  such  traits  have  imparted 
encouragement,  example,  and  joy  ?  We  recollect  in 
Switzerland,  in  our  day,  the  pastor  Juvet,  who  was 
refused  a  coverlet,  twenty  years  ago,  in  the  prisons 
of  the  canton  de  Vaud.  One  may  call  to  mind  in 
the  universal  church  Jerome  of  Prague,  who  was 
shut  up  for  three  hundred  and  forty  days  in  the 
prisons  of  Constance,  in  the  bottom  of  a  dark,  fetid 
tower,  and  never  allowed  to  leave  it  except  to  appear 
before  his  murderers.  No  more  has  there  been  for- 
gotten, among  the  English,  holy  Bishop  Hooker, 
dragged  from  his  damp,  disgusting  cellar,  covered 
with  wretchedly  poor  clothes  and  a  borrowed  cloak, 
as  he  proceeded  to  the  stake,  tottering  on  his  staff, 
and  bent  double  with  rheumatism.  Venerable  fathers, 
blessed  martyrs,  you  would  no  doubt  call  to  mind 
your  brother  Paul,  shut  up  in   the  prisons  of  Kome, 


344  CONFLICT   WITH    SUFFERING. 

suffering  from  cold  and  nakedness,  and  asking  for  his 
cloak.  Ah  !  unhappy  he  who  feels  not  the  sublime 
humanity,  the  tender  grandeur,  the  provident  and 
divine  sympathy,  the  depth  and  the  charm  of  such  a 
mode  of  instruction."  "We  behold  Paul  standing,'^ 
to  use  the  words  of  Mr.  Robert  Haldane,  ''  upon  the 
confines  of  the  two  worlds — in  this  world  about  to  be 
beheaded,  as  guilty,  by  the  Emperor  of  Home — in  the 
other  world  to  be  crowned,  as  righteous,  by  the  King 
of  kings;  here  deserted  by  men,  there  to  be  welcomed 
by  angels;  here  in  want  of  a  cloak  to  cover  him,  there 
to  be  clothed  upon  with  his  house  from  heaven." 

The  severity  of  the  treatment  to  which  the  apostle 
was  now  subjected  is  accounted  for  by  the  history  of 
the  times.  It  was  in  the  summer  of  the  year  after  his 
liberation  from  his  first  imprisonment  that  the  first 
imperial  persecution  of  Christianity  broke  out.  Then 
first,  as  it  appears.  Christians  were  recognized  as  a 
distinct  body,  and  not  as  a  Jewish  sect,  "  When  the 
alarm  and  indignation  of  the  people  was  excited  by 
the  tremendous  ruin  of  a  conflagration  which  burned 
down  almost  half  the  city,  it  answered  the  purpose  of 
Nero  (who  was  accused  of  causing  the  fire)  to  avert 
the  rage  of  the  populace  from  himself  to  the  already 
hated  votaries  of  a  new  religion.  Tacitus  describes 
the  success  of  this  expedient,  and  relates  the  sufferings 
of  the  Christian  martyrs,  who  were  put  to  death  with 
circumstances  of  the  most  aggravated  cruelty.  Some 
were  crucified,  some  disguised  in  the  skins  of  beasts, 
and  hunted  to  death  with  dogs;  some  were  wrapped 
in  robes  impregnated  with  inflammable  materials,  and 
set  on  fire  at  night,  that  they  might  serve  to  illuminate 
the  circus  of  the  Vatican  and  the  gardens  of  Nero, 
where  this  diabolical  monster  exhibited  the  agonies  of 


PAUL  DESERTED  BY  HIS  FRIENDS.      845 

his  victims  to  the  public,  and  gloated  over  them  him- 
self, mixing  among  the  spectators  in  the  costume  of  a 
charioteer.  Brutalized  as  the  Komans  were  by  the 
perpetual  spectacle  of  human  combats  in  the  amphi- 
theatre, and  hardened  by  popular  prejudice  against 
the  '  atheistical '  sect,  yet  the  tortures  of  the  victims 
excited  even  their  compassion.  'A  very  great  multi- 
tude,' as  Tacitus  informs  us,  perished  in  this  manner; 
and  it  appears  from  his  statement,  that  the  mere  fact 
of  professing  Christianity  was  accounted  sufficient  to 
justify  their  execution  ;  the  whole  body  of  Christians 
being  considered  as  involved  in  the  crime  of  firing  the 
city.'' 

The  first  excitement  which  followed  the  fire  had 
passed  away  before  Paul  was  carried  in  bonds  to 
Rome.  Yet  this  and  the  privilege  of  citizenship 
which  he  claimed  were  not  sufficient  to  protect  him 
from  injustice  and  cruelty.  We  have  no  means  of 
knowing  the  precise  charge  which  was  brought  against 
him.  But  his  trial  was  probably  not  long  delayed. 
And  we  have  an  account  of  the  first  hearing  of  the 
cause  from  his  own  pen.  Writing  to  Timothy  imme- 
diately after,  he  said : — "  When  I  was  first  heard  in 
my  defence,  no  man  stood  by  me,  but  all  forsook  me  : 
I  pray  that  it  be  not  laid  to  their  charge.  Never- 
theless, the  Lord  Jesus  stood  by  me,  and  strengthened 
my  heart ;  that  by  me  the  proclamation  of  the  gospel 
might  be  made  in  full  measure,  and  that  all  the  Gen- 
tiles might  hear ;  and  I  was  delivered  out  of  the  lion's 
mouth."*  We  .see,  from  this  statement,  that  it  was 
dangerous  even  to  appear  in  public  as  the  friend  or 
adviser  of  the  apostle.  "  No  advocate  would  venture  to 
plead  his  cause;  no procurato7'  to  aid  him  in  arranging 

*  2  Timothy  iy.  16—18. 


346        CONFLICT  WITH  SUFFERING. 

the  evidence ;  no  patronus  to  appear  as  his  supporter, 
and  to  deprecate,  according  to  ancient  usage,  the 
severity  of  the  sentence.  But  he  had  a  more  powerful 
Intercessor,  and  a  wiser  Advocate,  who  could  never 
leave  him  nor  forsake  him.  The  Lord  Jesus  was 
always  near  him,  but  now  was  felt  almost  visibly 
present  in  the  hour  of  his  need." 

Paul  was  remanded  to  prison  to  wait  for  the  second 
stage  of  his  trial.  It  seems  that  he  himself  did  not 
expect  the  final  decision  would  be  given  till  the  fol- 
lowing winter,*  whereas  it  actually  took  place  about 
midsummer.  But  we  are  not  left  to  conjecture  the 
feelings  with  which  he  awaited  the  consummation  ; 
they  are  expressed  in  that  sublime  strain  of  triumphant 
hope  which  has  nerved  the  hearts  of  a  thousand  mar- 
tyrs:— "I  am  now  ready  to  be  offer-ed,  and  the  time 
of  my  departure  is  at  hand.  I  have  fought  a  good 
fight,  I  have  finished  my  course,  I  have  kept  the 
faith  :  henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of 
righteousness,  which  the  Lord,  the  righteous  judge, 
shall  give  me  at  that  day  :  and  not  to  me  only,  but 
unto  all  them  also  that  love  his  appearing."  "  The  tri- 
bunal of  Nero  faded  from  his  sight,  and  the  vista  was 
closed  by  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ."  Luke  was 
the  only  one  of  his  habitual  attendants  who  now 
remained  to  minister  to  him,  and  his  faithful  com- 
panionship consoled  him  in  the  weary  hours  of  con- 
strained inactivity.  It  is  not  probable,  though  not 
impossible,  that  "  his  own"  Timothy  may  have  reached 
Borne  in  time  to  receive  his  dying  commands,  and 
cheer  his  latest  earthly  sufi*erings. 

We  have  no  record  of  the  final  stage  of  Paul's  trial, 
and  cannot   tell  the  cause   of  its  speedy  conclusion. 

*  2  Timothy  iv.  21. 


PAUL   LED    "without   THE   GATE."  347 

We  only  know  that  it  resulted  in  a  sentence  of 
capital  punishment,  to  be  inflicted  by  decapitation  ;  his 
Roman  citizenship  saving  him  from  the  ignominious 
death  of  lingering  torture  "which  had  been  lately  in- 
flicted on  so  many  of  his  brethren.  He  was  led  out 
to  execution  beyond  the  city  walls,  upon  the  road  to 
Ostia,  the  port  of  Rome.  "As  the  martyr  and  his 
executioners  passed  on,  their  way  was  crowded  with  a 
motley  multitude  of  goers  and  comers  between  the 
metropolis  and  its  harbour — merchants  hastening  to 
superintend  the  unloading  of  their  cargoes — sailors 
eager  to  squander  the  profits  of  their  last  voyage 
in  the  dissipations  of  the  capital — ofiicials  of  the 
government,  charged  with  the  administration  of  the 
provinces,  or  the  command  of  the  legions  on  the 
Euphrates  or  the  Rhine — Chaldean  astrologers — ■ 
Phrygian  eunuchs — dancing-girls  from  Syria,  with 
their  painted  turbans — mendicant  priests  from  Egypt, 
howling  for  Osiris — Greek  adventurers,  eager  to 
turn  their  national  cunning  into  Roman  gold — repre- 
sentatives of  the  avarice  and  ambition,  the  fraud  and 
lust,  the  superstition  and  intelligence,  of  the  imperial 
world.  Through  the  dust  and  tumult  of  that  busy 
throng,  the  small  troop  of  soldiers  threaded  their  way 
silently,  under  the  bright  sky  of  an  Italian  midsum- 
mer. They  were  marching,  though  they  knew  it  not,  in 
a  procession  more  truly  triumphal  than  any  they  had 
ever  followed  in  the  train  of  general  or  emperor, 
along  the  Sacred  Way.  Their  prisoner,  now  at  last 
and  for  ever  delivered  from  his  captivity,  rejoiced  to 
follow  his  Lord  '  without  the  gate.'  The  place  of 
execution  was  not  far  distant;  and  there  the  sword  of 
the  headsman  ended  his  long  course  of  sufi"erings, 
and  released  that  heroic  soul  from  that  feeble  body. 


348  CONFLICT    WITH    SUFFERING. 

Weeping  friends  took  up  liis  corpse,  and  carried  it 
for  burial  to  those  subterranean  labyrinths  where, 
through  many  ages  of  oppression,  the  persecuted 
church  found  refuge  for  the  living  and  sepulchres  for 
the  dead. 

''  Thus  died  the  apostle,  bequeathing  to  the  church, 
in  her  government  and  her  discipline,  the  legacy  of 
his  apostolic  labours  ;  leaving  his  prophetic  words  to 
be  her  living  oracles ;  pouring  forth  his  blood  to  be 
the  seed  of  a  thousand  martyrdoms.  Thenceforth, 
among  the  glorious  company  of  the  apostles,  among 
the  goodly  fellowship  of  the  prophets,  among  the 
noble  army  of  martyrs,  his  name  has  stood  pre- 
eminent. And  wheresoever  the  holy  church  through- 
out all  the  word  doth  acknowledge  God,  there  Paul 
of  Tarsus  is  revered  as  the  greatest  human  teacher  of 
a  truly  catholic  religion,  the  herald  of  glad  tidings  to 
all  mankind." 

Paul's  example,  as  a  sufferer,  is  not  to  be  set  aside 
by  the  consideration  that  he  was  an  apostle  and 
endowed  with  supernatural  gifts.  It  was  not  his 
miraculous  powers  that  sustained  his  spirit,  but  the 
presence  and  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  That  pre- 
sence, indeed,  was  sometimes  manifested  to  him  in  a 
way  in  which  it  is  not  to  Christians  in  these  times. 
In  Corinth  the  Lord  said  to  him  in  the  night  by  a 
vision,  "  Be  not  afraid,  but  speak,  and  hold  not  thy 
peace  :  for  I  am  with  thee  and  no  man  shall  set  on 
thee  to  hurt  thee.^'*  When  in  the  castle  of  Antonia 
in  Jerusalem,  the  Lord  stood  by  him  and  said,  "Be  of 
good  cheer,  Paul  :  for  as  thou  hast  testified  of  me  in 
Jerusalem,  so  must  thou  bear  witness  also  at  Rome.^f 

*  Acts  xviii.  9,  10.  f  Acts  xxiii.  11. 


PRINCIPLES   COMMON    TO    ALL.  349 

And  when  overtaken  bj  storm  and  shipwreck  on  his 
way  to  Rome,  he  said  to  his  fellow-voyagers,  "  There 
stood  by  me  this  night  the  angel  of  God,  whose  I  am, 
and  whom  I  serve,  saying,  Fear  not,  Paul ;  thou  must 
be  brought  before  Caesar:  and,  lo,  God  hath  given 
thee  all  them  that  sail  with  thee.  Wherefore,  sirs, 
be  of  good  cheer  :  for  I  believe  God,  that  it  shall  be 
even  as  it  was  told  me."  *  And  when  he  did  stand 
before  Caesar,  we  are  told  by  himself  that  "  the  Lord 
stood  with  him,  and  strengthened  him."  "I*  Now  all 
these  manifestations  of  Christ  to  his  suffering  servant 
were  in  fulfilment  of  the  same  promises — "  Preach 
the  gospel  to  every  creature,"  and  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you 
alway,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world."  "  He  that  hath 
my  commandments,  and   keepeth    them,  he  it  is   that 

loveth  me  : and  I  will  love  him,  and  will 

manifest  myself  to  him."  |  The  first  three  instances 
of  "  manifestation"  which  we  have  quoted  were 
accompanied  by  supernatural  visions,  but  the  last  was 
not.  And  the  last  is  to  be  taken  as  the  proper  repre- 
sentative of  the  daily  and  habitual  manifestation  of 
Christ  to  his  servant.  While  he  favoured  him 
occasionalli/  with  visions,  he  stood  by  him  liahitualhj 
by  his  inward  grace,  and  "  strengthened  him"  with 
that  same  strength  which  for  these  eighteen  hundred 
years  has  carried  joyfully  to  the  stake  those  who 
never  saw  his  person  and  never  heard  his  voice.  It 
was  when  he  received  a  promise  of  grace  sufficient  for 
him,  and  of  strength  made  perfect  in  his  weakness, 
that  the  apostle  said,  "  Most  gladly  therefore  will  I 
rather  glory  in  my  infirmities,  that  the  power  of  Christ 
may  rest  upon  me.  Therefore  I  take  pleasure  in  in- 
firmities, in  reproaches,  in  necessities,  in  persecutions, 

*  Acf  s  xxvii.  23—25.  f  2  Timothy  iv.  17.  t  John  xiv.  21. 

30 


350  CONFLICT   WITH   SUFFERING. 

in  distresses  for  Christ's  sake  :  for  when  T  am  weak, 
then  am  I  strong."  *  The  fountain,  then,  whence 
this  great  sufferer  drew  comfort  and  strength,  is  the 
common  fountain,  now  as  full  and  free  as  ever,  of  Di- 
vine grace  and  promise. 

The  principles  under  which  he  acted  will  likewise 
be  found  to  be  those  which  are  common  to  the  Christian 
character  and  life.  "  Whether  we  be  beside  ourselves, 
it  is  to  God  :  or  whether  v;e  be  sober,  it  is  for  your 
cause.  For  the  love  of  Christ  constraineth  us  ;  because 
we  thus  judge,  that  if  one  died  for  all,  then  were  all 
dead  :  and  that  he  died  for  all,  that  they  which  live 
should  not  henceforth  live  unto  themselves,  but  unto 
him  which  died  for  them,  and  rose  again."  "j"  A  course 
of  action,  in  pursuit  of  which  bonds  and  afflictions 
awaited  him  in  every  city,  whose  only  visible  rewards 
were  dishonour  and  suffering,  must  have  seemed  to 
the  world  madness  itself  But  let  men  understand 
the  principle  which  constrained  to  it,  and  the  appa- 
rent madness  will  give  place  to  the  highest  reason. 
It  was  for  no  abstractions,  however  true  or  profound, 
that  Paul  toiled  and  suifered.  It  was  for  Christ,  the 
living  Christ,  once  on  earth,  now  in  heaven — the  liv- 
ing Christ,  whose  claims  to  faith  and  love  and  obe- 
dience, were  paramount  to  every  other.  This  was  his 
impulsive  motive  as  a  worker,  and  his  sustaining  prin- 
ciple as  a  sufferer. 

Add  to  this  the  principle  which  is  involved  in 
these  words  : — ^'  Our  light  affliction,  which  is  but  for 
a  moment,  worketh  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory;  ivhile  we  look  not  at  the  things 
which  are  seen,  hut  at  the  things  icliich  are  not  seen :  for 
the  things  which  are  seen  are  temporal ;  but  the  things 

*  2  Conntbians  xii.  9, 10.  f  2  Corinthians  v.  13—15. 


ANCIENT    MARTYRDOM.  351 

wliicli  are  not  seen  are  eternal.'^  *  ''  Things  unseen" 
were  not  abstractions  in  Paul's  creed,  nor  visions  of 
his  imagination,  but  simple  realities  before  the  eje 
of  his  faith.  Their  magnitude  and  blessedness  were 
ever  present  to  his  mind.  He  placed  his  afflictions 
in  the  one  scale,  and  the  glory  to  be  revealed  in  the 
other.  And  although  by  themselves  his  afflictions 
were  overwhelmingly  heavy,  yet,  as  compared  with  the 
"  exceeding  weight"  of  eternal  glory,  he  counted 
them  "  light."  "He  endured  as  seeing  Him  that 
is  invisible."  This  source  of  strength  is  common 
to  all  the  saints  of  God ;  and,  realized,  it  never 
fails. 

In  the  history  of  Christian  suffering,  both  that 
which  has  been  endured  in  the  open  face  of  day, 
and  that  which  has  been  endured  in  the  privacy  of 
domestic  life,  we  have  abundant  evidence  that  the  prin- 
ciples which  enabled  Paul  to  rejoice  in  tribulation  are 
of  universal  efficacy,  and  that  the  ascended  Saviour  has 
never  forsaken  his  followers. 

They  who  have  read  the  story  of  the  early  church 
"  have  read  of  a  love  not  only  stronger  than  death, 
but  stronger  than  the  protracted  death  of  a  life  of 
persecution.  They  know  that  peasants  from  the 
plough,  and  slaves  from  the  market-place,  achieved 
wonders  of  fortitude  such  as  the  proud  philosophy  of 
old  time  had  scarcely  dared  to  imagine  in  the  brightest 
visions  of  human  perfections — that  poor  men,  un- 
conscious heroes  who  had  never  heard  of  heroism,  not 
only  sought  the  flames  (jhat  might  be  the  weakness 
of  enthusiasm),  but — what  no  enthusiasm  but  that  of 
God's  eternal  Spirit  ever  wrought — from  the  heart  of 

*  2  Corinthians  iv.  17, 18. 


352  CONFLICT   WITH    SUFFERING. 

the  flames  called  for  pardon  upon  the  oppressors ;  so 
that  the  fires  of  persecution  and  the  prayers  of  the 
persecuted  rose,  for  vengeance  and  for  mercy,  to  hea- 
ven together." 

The  persecutors  of  the  early  Christians  included  in 
their  number  some  of  the  best  and  most  enlightened 
of  the  governors  of  Rome.  When  Pliny  the  Younger 
was  appointed  to  the  government  of  one  of  the 
provinces  of  Asia  Minor,  he  found  multitudes  of 
the  people  not  simply  indifferent  to  the  religion  of  the 
state,  but  eager  to  denounce  it  as  false.  The  temples 
were  forsaken,  and  the  images  of  the  gods  and  of  the 
emperor  were  defrauded  of  their  customary  homage. 
As  the  representative  of  the  majesty  of  the  empire, 
Pliny  laboured,  by  imperial  edicts,  by  judicial  inquests, 
and  by  the  infliction  of  capital  punishment  on  the 
refractory,  to  recover  the  ground  which  the  idolatries 
of  Rome  had  lost.  Under  the  sudden  pressure  of 
these  violent  measures,  many  cleared  themselves  of 
all  suspicion  by  compliance  with  the  sacrificial  rites, 
and  by  uttering,  with  the  required  maledictions,  the 
name  which  had  come  to  designate  the  new  com- 
munity. '^  For  the  purpose  of  effecting  these  con- 
versions in  a  legal  manner,  the  Roman  magistrate 
had  caused  the  effigies  of  the  gods  and  of  the  emperor 
to  be  brought  into  court.  Can  we  fancy  that  we  see 
them  coming  forward,  dolls,  or  be  they  what  they 
might,  shouldered  by  the  officers  of  justice,  and 
nodding  as  they  came  ?  In  style  of  art  vastly  superior 
are  the  simulacra  to  the  hideous  blocks  which  now 
grin  in  our  museums,  representative  of  the  gods  of 
Tahiti  and  the  Sandwich  Islands ;  and  yet,  whether 
more  or  less  sightly,  these  effigies,  and  the  vast 
system    of    worship    which    they    symbolized,    were 


PATRICK    HAMILTON.  353 

hlochs  standing  in   the  way  of  that  next  great  move- 
ment forward  which  the  human  mind  was  to  take. 

*'  This  enlightened  Roman  gentleman,  well  con- 
versant as  he  was  with  whatever  had  been  said  and 
taught  by  the  philosophers  of  Greece  and  Rome,  was 
conscious  of  no  humiliation  ;  he  did  not  blush  when 
these  stupid  symbols  had  been  poised  near  him,  and 
he,  prompting  the  form  of  appellation — prseeu7ite  me 
— pointed  to  them  as  fit  objects  of  devout  regard. 
The  accused,  pale  and  trembling,  as  they  did  that 
which  he  did  not  blush  to  exact,  offered  the  incense 
and  the  wine,  and  departed."  But,  however  many,  at 
a  time  of  alarm,  might  be  the  faltering  and  the 
timid,  there  were  never  wanting  others  who,  as  Pliny 
tells  us,  ''  could  by  no  means  be  induced  either  to 
oifer  sacrifice  to  the  gods,  or  to  speak  injuriously  of 
Christ."  Rather  than  do  this,  they  endured  torments 
and  accepted  death. 

So  great  has  been  the  number  of  the  martyrs  of 
Jesus,  and  such  their  deeds  and  sufferings,  that  one 
may  adopt  the  language  of  the  apostle  John,  and  say, 
*'  If  they  should  be  written  every  one,  I  suppose  that 
even  the  world  itself  could  not  contain  the  books  that 
should  be  written."  Of  the  many  who  have  suffered 
for  Christ  at  the  hands  of  the  apostate  church  of  Rome, 
let  one  example  suffice. 

The  proto-martyr  of  the  Scottish  Reformation  was 
the  great-grandson  of  a  Scottish  king. 

T  ,  o       .    •    1         T  •       1  Patrick   Hamil- 

In  an  ase  when   fecottish   chivalry  was  ton;  bom   1504 ; 

"-  _  -^  died  Feb.  29, 1528. 

in   the   zenith,  his  father  enjoyed  the 

reputation  of  being  the  first  of  Scottish   knights,  the 

30* 


354  CONFLICT    WITH    SUFFERING. 

gallant  defender  of  youth  and  beauty.  No  sight  was 
so  familiar  to  young  Patrick  Hamilton's  eyes  as 
that  of  his  father's  armour,  ever  bright  and  ready  for 
use ;  and  no  talk  so  familiar  to  his  ears  as  that  of  his 
father's  deeds  of  Chivalry  in  many  lands.  The  lessons 
of  true  knighthood  were  doubtless  often  taught  him. 
But  it  needed  other  lessons  and  other  influences  to 
turn  the  scion  of  Scotland's  bravest  knight  into  her 
first  confessor  of  Christ's  gospel.  The  history  of  his 
enlightenment  and  conversion  may  be  read  elsewhere. 
Of  his  last  conflict  do  we  alone  speak  now. 

Within  a  few  hours  of  the  sentence  passed  on  him 
by  the  archbishop  of  St.  Andrew's,  the  stake  was 
ready  for  the  martyr,  and  the  martyr  for  the  stake. 
The  spirit  of  power  and  of  love  was  upon  him.  The 
officials  of  the  archbishop  offered  him  his  life  if  he 
would  recant  the  confession  he  had  made  in  the 
cathedral.  But  in  vain.  The  executioners  then 
stepped  forward  and  bound  him  to  the  stake  by  an 
iron  chain.  Thus  bound,  he  prayed,  like  his  Master 
for  his  persecutors  ;  for  "  there  were  many  of  them 
blinded  by  ignorance,  that  they  knew  not  what  they 
did."  For  himself  he  prayed  that  Christ  "  would 
strengthen  him  by  his  Holy  Spirit,  that  he  might 
steadfastly  abide  the  cruel  pains  of  fire."  The  fagots 
were  kindled  thrice,  but  the  flames  took  no  steady 
hold  of  the  pile,  and  the  good  man's  sufferings  were 
protracted  in  consequence.  The  flames  were  at  last 
thoroughly  kindled.  But,  surrounded  by  them,  he  still 
remembered  in  his  torments  his  widowed  mother,  and 
commended  her  with  his  dying  breath  to  the  care 
and  sympathy  of  his  friends.  When  nearly  burnt 
through  his  middle  by  the  fiery  chain,  a  voice  in  the 


HAMILTON    AT    THE    STAKE.  355 

crowd  of  spectators  called  aloud  to  him,  that  if  he 
still  had  faith  in  the  doctrine  for  which  he  died,  he 
should  give  a  last  sign  of  his  constancy.  Whereupon 
he  raised  three  fingers  of  his  half-consumed  hand,  and 
held  them  steadily  in  that  position  till  he  ceased  to 
live.  His  last  audible  words  were,  "  How  long,  Lord, 
shall  darkness  overwhelm  this  kingdom  ?  how  long 
wilt  thou  suffer  this  tyranny  of  men  ?  Lord  Jesus 
receive  my  spirit.''  The  execution  lasted  for  nearly 
six  hours;  ''but  during  all  that  time,"  says  one  who 
witnessed  with  profound  emotion  the  whole  scene, — 
Alexander  Alane,  then  a  canon  of  St.  Andrew's,  but 
thenceforward  a  reformer  and  sufferer  for  Christ's 
sake, — "  the  martyr  never  gave  one  sign  of  impatience 
or  anger,  nor  ever  called  to  heaven  for  vengeance  upon 
his  persecutors  :  so  great  was  his  faith,  so  strong  his 
confidence  in  God." 

Thus  tragically  but  gloriously  died,  on  the  29th  of 
February,  1528,  when  only  four  and-twenty  years  of 
age,  this  noble  martyr  in  a  noble  cause.  ''  The  death 
of  Sir  Patrick,  the  father,  on  the  streets  of  Edinburgh 
eight  years  before,  was  the  death  of  a  hero  of  chivalry," 
says  Professor  Lorimer  :  "  the  death  of  his  son,  at 
St.  Andrew's,  was  the  death  of  a  hero  of  religion,  in 
the  noble  battle  of  God's  truth,  in  the  high  service  of 
the  religious  emancipation  of  his  country.  In  both 
sire  and  son  we  discover  the  same  high  sense  of 
honour  and  duty,  as  they  severally  understood  what 
honour  and  duty  required  at  their  hands;  in  both,  the 
same  intrepid  daring  in  the  presence  of  danger,  the 
same  forwardness  in  the  path  of  self-devotion.  But 
along  with  these  grand  resemblances  there  were  also 
exhibited  some  striking  contrasts.  The  father  died  a 
victim  to  the  faction   and   ambition  of  his   powerful 


356  CONFLICT    WITH    SUFFERING. 

house  :  the  son  gave  himself  a  sacrifice  to  his  country 
and  the  church  of  God.  The  father  poured  out  his 
blood  in  the  tragic  rage  of  insulted  honour,  and  to 
vindicate  his  good  name  as  a  soldier  and  a  Hamilton  : 
the  son  yielded  his  life  with  the  calm  and  gentle,  but 
resolute,  fortitude  of  a  martyr,  praying  with  his  latest 
breath,  '  Father,  forgive  them.' ''  The  brave  Sir 
Patrick  died  the  last,  or  all  but  the  last,  of  the  Scottish 
knights  of  the  middle  age,  the  age  of  chivalry.  His  son 
had  nothing  in  him  of  the  middle  age,  save  the  noble 
and  generous  blood  which  it  transmitted  to  him.  He 
was  the  first  illustrious  Scotsman  of  modern  times;  and 
the  blood  of  the  martyr  was  the  seed  of  the  church. 

Madame  Guyon  was  an  illustrious  sufferer  for 
Christ's  sake.  She  never  left  the  church  of  Rome; 
but  her  doctrines,  notwithstanding  the  errors  that 
were  mixed  with  them,  were  essentially  antagonistic 
to  those  of  Romanism.  The  doctrine  of ''  sanctifica- 
tion  by  faith"  struck  those  who  heard  her  with  aston- 
ishment. Sanctification  itself  was  repugnant,  and 
sanctification  by  faith  inexplicable.  In  the  Roman 
Catholic  church,  with  its  "carnal  ordinances"  and 
its  purgatory,  the  toleration  of  a  sentiment  which 
ascribes  the  highest  degree  of  purity  to  the  operatiim 
of  faith  alone  was  inipossible.  So  that,  instead  of 
being  regarded  as  a  humble  and  devout  Catholic,  she 
found  herself  suddenly  denounced  as  a  heretic.  But 
"  the  word  was  in  her  heart,"  and  she  would  utter  it. 

When  sailing  down  the  Seine,  on  her  departure 
from  Paris  to  the  south  of  France,  her  little  daugh- 
ter, afterwards  the  duchess  of  Sully,  then  a  child  five 
years  old,  sat  in  the  boat,  and  employed  herself  in 
cutting   the    leaves   and    twigs    which    she   gathered 


THE   CROSS   AND    THE    CROWN.  357 

on  the  river  banks,  or  as  they  floated  by  on  the  water, 
into  the  shape  of  crosses.  Apparently  unconscious  of 
what  she  was  doing,  she  fastened  many  of  them  to 
the  garments  of  her  mother.  Her  mother  soon  found 
herself  almost  covered  with  crosses,  and  could  not 
help  looking  on  the  act  of  her  child  as  a  foreshadow- 
ing of  what  she  would  be  called  to  endure.  But 
what  was  her  surprise  when  she  saw  her  daughter 
afterwards  weaving  together  a  crown  of  leaves  and 
river  flowers !  When  she  had  completed  it,  she 
insisted  on  placing  it  on  her  mother's  head,  saying, 
"  After  the  cross  you  shall  be  crowned."  This  per- 
fected the  symbol  :  first  the  cross,  and  then  the 
crown."  No  wonder  that  the  doing  of  the  little  child 
should  seem  to  be  a  sign  of  Providence.  It  needed 
no  superstition  to  suggest  its  lesson.  But  though 
^' bonds  and  afilictions"  awaited  her,  Madame  Guyon 
could  add  with  the  apostle,  ^^  None  of  these  things 
move  me  3  neither  count  I  my  life  dear  unto  myself, 
that  I  may  finish  my  course  with  joy." 

During  her  five  years'  labours  in  the  south  of 
France,  this  good  woman  was  driven  from  place  to 
place  in  the  most  cruel  manner,  and  was  regarded  as 
one  who  was  "turning  the  world  upside  down."  At 
Thonon,  the  populace  attacked  the  solitary  cottage 
where  she  resided  with  her  little  daughter  and  two 
female  domestics.  They  trampled  down  and  laid  waste 
her  garden,  hurled  stones  through  her  windows,  and 
uttered  their  threats  and  insults  round  the  house  the 
whole  night.  Then  came  an  episcopal  order  to  quit 
the  diocese.  ''  The  good  which  God  has  enabled  me  to 
do,"  she  says,  "  was  condemned  more  than  the  greatest 
crimes.  Crimes  were  tolerated  ;  but  the  work  of  God, 
resulting  in  the  conversion  and  sanctification  of  souls. 


358  CONFLICT    WITH    SUFFERING. 

could  not  be  endured.  All  this  while  I  had  no  un- 
easiness of  mind.  My  soul  found  rest  in  God  :  I 
never  repented  that  I  had  left  all  to  be  what  seemed 
to  be  his  will.  I  believed  that  God  had  a  design  in 
everything  which  took  place;  and  I  left  all  in  his 
hands,  both  the  sorrow  and  the  joy." 

On  her  return,  in  1G86,  to  Paris,  which  the  fame  of 
her  doings  and  sufferings  had  reached  before  her,  she 
became,  for  a  time,  the  centre  of  an  illustrious  circle, 
who  listened  with  delight  to  the  exposition  of  her 
doctrines.  But  civil  and  ecclesiastical  authority  was 
soon  alarmed  by  the  progress  of  her  opinions;  and  she 
was  oast  into  one  prison  after  another.  Her  faithful 
maid,  partaker  of  her  piety  and  of  her  trials,  was 
imprisoned  with  her  in  the  castle  of  Vincennes,  and 
there  they  were  helpers  of  each  other's  faith  and  joy. 

Madame  Guyon  wrote  religious  songs,  and  "to- 
gether/' she  says,  "  we  sang  praises  to  thee,  0  our 
God.  It  sometimes  seemed  to  me,  as  if  I  were  a 
little  bird  whom  the  Lord  had  placed  in  a  cage,  and 
that  I  had  nothing  to  do  now  but  to  sing;"  a  sentiment 
which  she  embodied,  in  one  of  her  imprisonments,  in  a 
touching  little  poem,  which  begins  thus  : — 

"  A  little  bird  I  am 

Shut  from  the  fields  of  air; 
And  in  my  cage  I  sit  and  sing 

To  Him  who  placed  me  there; 
WeJl  pleased  a  prisoner  to  be, 
Because,  my  God,  it  pleaseth  thee." 

From  Vincennes  she  was  transferred  to  Yaugirard, 
and  thence,  in  September,  1698,  to  the  Bastille,  in  one 
of  whose  dungeons  she  was  immured  in  solitary  con- 
finement four  long  years.  The  horrors  of  such  an 
imprisonment  are  not  to  be  imagined,  far  less  de- 
scribed.    "  The  prisoner  looks  upward,  but  he  sees  no 


MADAME    GUYON    IN    THE   BASTILLE.  359 

sun  ;  lie  gazes  at  the  straggling  but  dim  ligLt  of  his 
window,  but  it  shows  him  no  green  fields  or  woods; 
he  listens  and  hears,  or  thinks  he  hears  a  voice  coming 
up  from  the  streets  below,  which  reminds  him  of  a 
child  or  brother ;  but  alas  !  child  and  brother,  and  the 
hopes  and  happiness  of  home,  are  no  longer  his.  Sad 
and  weeping,  he  walks  from  side  to  side  of  his  dark 
room  ;  ill  finding  his  mind  sinking  under  a  sorrow 
which  it  is  his  duty  to  strive  against,  he  resorts  to  any 
sort  of  occupation  or  amusement,"  which,  however, 
often  fails  to  ward  off  the  encroachments  of  a  drivel- 
ling idiocy  or  a  raving  madness.  "  The  histories  of 
the  Bastille  are  full  of  attempts  to  train  spiders 
by  supplying  them  with  food,  and  to  avert  the 
horrors  of  reflection  by  ascertaining  the  dimensions 
of  the  room,  or  counting  the  studs  upon  the  door. 
Some  have  spent  whole  days  in  pouring  water  from 
one  dish  into  another;  or  in  disposing  in  fanciful 
arrangements  the  pieces  of  which  their  fagots  were 
composed.^' 

How  Madame  Guyon  spent  and  endured  the  long 
years  of  her  imprisonment  is  not  known.  Every 
prisoner  who  entered  the  Bastille  was  obliged  to  take 
an  oath,  by  which  he  bound  himself  to  maintain  an 
inviolable  secresy  with  respect  to  all  that  he  had  seen 
or  heard  there.  But,  in  anticipation  of  her  imprison- 
ment, she  wrote  to  a  friend  :  "  I  feel  no  anxiety  in 
view  of  what  my  enemies  will  do  to  me.  I  have  no 
fear  of  anything  but  being  left  to  myself.  So  long 
as  God  is  with  me,  neither  imprisonment  nor  death 
will  have  any  terrors."  And  in  a  single  passage  in 
her  autobiography,  she  says  : — "  I,  being  in  the  Bas- 
tille, said  to  thee,  0  my  God,  if  thou  art  pleased  to 
render  me  a  spectacle  to  men  and  angels^  thy  holy 


360        CONFLICT  WITH  SUFFERING. 

will  be  done.  All  that  I  ask  is,  that  thou  wilt  be 
with  and  save  those  that  love  thee;  so  that  neither 
life  nor  death,  neither  principalities  nor  powers,  may 
ever  separate  them  from  the  love  of  God  which  is  ia 
Jesus  Christ.  ...  If  I  can  only  be  accepted  of  him, 
I  am  willing  that  all  men  should  despise  and  hate  me. 
Their  strokes  will  polish  what  may  be  defective  in  me, 
so  that  I  may  be  presented  in  peace  to  Him  for  whom 
I  die  daily.  Without  his  favour  I  am  wretched.  0 
Saviour,  I  present  myself  before  thee  an  oifering,  a 
sacrifice.  Purify  me  in  thy  blood  that  I  may  be 
accepted  of  thee." 

In  the  same  tower  of  the  Bastille  with  Madame 
Guyon,  was  confined  the  celebrated  prisoner  known  as 
the  Man  of  the  Iron  Mask,  and  she  may  have  heard, 
in  her  cell,  the  mehincholy  notes  of  the  guitar  with 
which  her  fellow-prisoner  beguiled  a  captivity  whose 
horrors  had  then  lasted  seven-and-thirty  years.  Why 
the  Man  of  the  Iron  Mask  was  imprisoned,  or  who  he 
was,  is  one  of  the  mysteries  of  history.  Madame 
Guyon  was  there  because  she  trusted  in  her  Saviour 
with  a  faith  which  repudiated  the  merits  of  those 
services  which  were  ordained  by  the  church  to  which 
she  still  clung,  and  loved  him  with  a  love  that  rose 
above  all  earthly  love,  and  was  prepared  for  any  sa- 
crifice for  his  name's  sake.  She  regarded  herself  as  a 
"  martyr  for  the  Holy  Ghost,"  a  martyr  for  the  doc- 
trine of  sanctification,  "  the  doctrine  of  the  coming 
and  triumphant  reign  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  men's 
souls,  and  of  their  personal  and  entire  dependence  on 
his  divine  power  and  influence."  The  real  objection 
to  her  doctrines  was,  that  involving,  as  they  did,  a 
reliance  upon  faith  alone,  as  the  true  foundation  of 
the  Christian  life  in  all  its  extent,  they  tended  to  sub- 


MARTYRS    OF   MADAGASCAR.  361 

vert  some  of  the  received  ideas  and  practices  of  the 
Koman  Catholic  church. 

Madame  Guyon's  constitution,  never  strong,  was 
broken  down  at  last  by  the  stony  chill  of  rigorous 
winters,  and  by  the  noxious  vapours  which  steamed 
from  the  stagnant  moat  in  summer.  She  was  liberated 
in  1702,  and  sent  to  Blois,  a  picturesque  old  city  on 
the  Loire.  There,  in  exile,  she  lived  in  quiet,  and 
probably  in  great  weakness,  sought  out  from  time  to 
time  by  visitors  from  distant  provinces  and  other  lands, 
as  patient  under  the  infirmities  of  declining  age  as  be- 
neath the  persecutions  of  other  days ;  finding,  as  she 
had  always  done,  some  sweet  in  every  bitter,  and  a 
theme  for  praise  in  every  trial. 

The  hour  of  death  arrived  in  1717.  No  clouds 
rested  upon  her  vision ;  no  doubts  perplexed  the  ful- 
ness of  her  hope  and  joy.  At  half-past  eleven  o'clock 
on  the  night  of  the  ninth  of  June,  1717,  she  breathed 
her  last,  in  the  seventieth  year  of  her  age. 

"  Rest,  gentle  spirit,  rest, 

Thy  conflicts  o'er,  thy  labours  done  ; 
Angels  thy  friends  ;  thy  home 
The  presence  of  the  Uoly  One." 

Martyrdom  is  as  much  a  reality  in  the  nineteenth 

century  as  in  ages  that  are  past.     Christians,  inspired 

by  love  to   Christ  and   zeal  for   God,  have  only  to  be 

brought  into   collision  with  hostile  powers,  to  sufi"er 

as  did   the  martyrs  of  old,  and  to  exhibit  the  same 

high    and    noble    qualities    of    their    faith.       In    the 

Island  of  Madagascar,  not  fewer  than  fifty  Christians 

are  known  to  have  sealed  their  testimony  with  their 

blood  since  the  expulsion  of  the  missionaries  in  1838. 

The  Rev.  William  Ellis,  in   his  visits  to   Madagascar 

in    1856,  met   and   conversed    repeatedly  with    their 
31 


CONFLICT   WITH  SUFFERING. 

widowed  survivors  and  their  orphan  children,  as  well 
as  with  those  who  witnessed  the  steadfastness  of  their 
faith  and  the  quiet  triumph  of  their  death.  Deeply 
afifecting,  he  says,  were  the  details  which  he  received 
of  the  sorrows  and  the  consolations  of  the  sufferers. 

The  Indian  mutiny  of  1857-8  involved  many  native 
Christians  in  this  "  great  fight  of  afflictions"  for 
Christ's  sake.  And  many  of  the  feeble  sons  of  India 
were  made  strong  to  suffer,  and  exhibited  those  qua- 
lities which  have  made  the  history  of  martyrdom  a 
history  of  spiritual  heroism.  Before  the  trial  came, 
even  those  who  knew  them  best,  and  trusted  them 
most,  would  have  trembled  for  the  issue.  But  God 
was  with  them  ;  and  "  cases  occurred  even  of  men 
who  had  previously  occupied  a  low  position  among 
their  brethren  for  piety  and  zeal,  yet  who,  when  con- 
fronted with  the  foe,  and  exposed  to  all  the  horrors 
which,  in  his  malice,  he  might  possibly  impose  upon 
them,  suddenly  burst  forth  like  the  sun  from  behind  a 
cloud  and  baffled  their  very  adversaries  by  the  dazzling 
brightness  of  their  Christian  virtues."  *  Not  only 
Hindustanis,  but  even  Bengalis — a  people  the  most 
unwarlike,  and  the  least  likely  to  possess  any  large 
share  of  physical  courage — maintained  their  faith  in 
the  face  of  an  immediate  and  cruel  death,  and  are  now 
numbered  with  "  the  noble  army  of  martyrs." 

From  these  sufferings  for  Christ's  sake,  we  turn  to 
the  more  ordinary  afflictions  of  life ;  and  of  these  the 
most  common  and  the  most  affecting,  probably,  are 
the  desolations  of  death.  "  There  is  no  man  that  hath 
power  over  the  spirit  to  retain  the  spirit;  neither  hath 

*  See  Sberring's  "  Indian  Church  during  the  Great  Rebellion." 


COMFORT    IN    BEREAVEMENT.  363 

he  power  in  the  day  of  death  :  and  there  is  no  dis- 
charge in  that  war/'  *  The  tyrant  that  crushes  an 
empire  beneath  his  iron  heel,  is  as  powerless  to  retain 
his  spirit  as  the  meanest  worm  that  he  treads  on.  The 
wise  man*  with  all  his  knowledge  and  genius,  is  as  fee- 
ble under  the  assault  of  death  as  the  fool.  The  master 
and  the  slave,  the  man  of  wealth  and  the  beggar,  the 
idle  and  the  industrious, — "  one  event  happeneth  to 
them  all."  In  palace  and  cottage  alike,  death  does  his 
work  with  all  the  uniformity  and  regularity  with  which 
the  sun  rises  and  sets. 

But,  after  all,  it  is  poor  comfort  to  know  this.  My 
neighbour's  wounds  will  not  heal  mine.  The  dark 
cloud  that  rests  on  his  tabernacle,  and  fills  all  its 
chambers,  sends  no  light  into  mine.  There  is  better 
comfort  than  this  within  our  reach.  "We  do  not  live 
in  a  fatherless  world.  Dark  as  is  the  picture  of  human 
life,  it  would  be  darker  still  if  to  all  its  other  miseries 
it  were  added  that  man  is  forsaken  of  his  Father. 
Better  to  have  his  frown  than  to  be  overlooked  and 
forgotten.  Of  his  frown,  indeed,  there  are  evidences 
enough  in  the  events  of  God's  providence,  in  the  pre- 
sent course  of  nature,  and  in  our  heart's  consciousness. 
But,  distressing  as  these  are,  the  dread  feeling  of  de- 
solation that  would  accompany  the  conviction,  that 
mankind  have  been  so  separated  from  their  Maker  as 
to  be  consigned  to  solitude  and  orphanage,  would  be 
more  distressing  still.  Anything,  anything,  rather 
than  to  feel  that  there  is  no  link  of  connection  be- 
tween us  and  the  moral  centre  of  the  creation  ;  that 
God  never  thinks  of  us,  and  that  we  are  absolutely 
alone  in  the  universe. 

We  turn,  then,  to  his  word,  and  we  feel  that  it  is 

*  Ecclesiafites  viiL  8. 


864  CONFLICT    WITH    SUFFERING. 

something  even  to  be  told  whence  death  came.  The 
story  of  its  entrance  into  the  world  is  a  very  sad  one  ; 
and  in  the  light  of  it  death  becomes  to  us  a  perpetual 
token  of  divine  displeasure.  Yet  is  it  something  to 
know  that  man  was  not  made  mortal, — that»mortality 
did  not  belong  to  his  original  nature.  There  is  hope 
even  in  this.  In  the  history  of  death,  we  find,  more- 
over, two  instances  in  which  man  hath  not  died;  and 
we  receive  them  as  palpable  testimony  to  an  invisible 
state  of  existence.  This  testimony  does  not  stand  alone. 
Implicitly  or  explicitly,  the  word  of  God  is  full  of  the 
doctrine,  and  Jesus  Christ  has  brought  life  and  immor- 
tality to  the  full  light  of  perfect  day  by  his  gospel. 

^'  The  Divine  voice,"  it  has  been  said,  "  is  never  so 
truly  heard  as  when  it  speaks  through  human  expe- 
rience and  sympathies.''  The  Old  Testament  tells  us 
of  the  sentiments  and  language  of  three  bereaved 
fathers,  marked  by  a  great  similarity  and  by  an  in- 
structive difference.  The  similarity  is  to  be  found  in 
the  greatness  of  the  calamity  with  which  each  of  these 
fathers  was  visited ;  in  the  strong  feeling  with  which 
nature  was  agitated,  the  very  opposite  of  stoical  insen- 
sibility; and  in  the  profound  submission  of  their  souls 
at  the  same  time  to  the  will  of  God.  But  there  is  an 
instructive  difference.  There  is  a  marked  gradation  in 
their  submission  to  God.  "  Aaron  held  his  peace." 
This  is  the  lowest  degree  of  submission.  But,  in  his 
circumstances,  it  was  a  great  deal.  He  was  still ;  he 
opened  not  his  mouth,  because  God  did  it.  Eli  said, 
"  It  is  the  Lord  :  let  him  do  what  seemeth  good  in 
his  sight."  This  was  a  more  active  and  hearty  ac- 
quiescence in  the  divine  will  than  Aaron's  silence. 
But  Job's  was  more  active  and  hearty  still :  "  Blessed 
be  the  name  of  the  Lord." 


CAPTAIN   ALLEN   GARDINER.  365 

We,  Christians;  have  the  benefit  of  the  experience 
of  these  ancient  worthies ;  and  when  death  invades 
our  families,  their  example  should  guide  our  souls  into 
patience  and  comfort.  Yea,  we  have  a  great  advan- 
tage over  them.  They  enjoyed  but  the  dawn  :  we 
enjoy  the  perfect  day.  That  scene  of  mingled  majesty 
and  grace  which  is  recorded  in  the  eleventh  chapter  of 
John,  and  those  glorious  revelations  which  are  made 
to  us  in  the  fifteenth  chapter  of  the  first  Epistle  to 
the  Corinthians,  are  such,  that,  if  we  apprehend  them, 
and  use  them  as  we  are  entitled  to  do  for  our  solace 
and  joy,  the  exclamation  "  O  Death,"  will  no  longer 
be  the  involuntary  expression  of  astonishment  or  of 
anguish,  but  the  exultant  utterance  of  triumph  :  "  0 
Death,  where  is  thy  sting  ?  0  Grave,  where  is  thy 
victory  ?  The  sting  of  death  is  sin  ;  and  the  strength 
of  sin  is  the  law.  But  thanks  be  to  God,  which  giveth 
us  the  victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 


Captain  Allen  F.  Gardiner  may  be  classed  among 
either  the  workers  or  the  sufferers 

Allen  F.  Gardi- 

of  the  church  of  Christ.  He  was  S^^=  ^TX^s^rfell 
both.  The  energy  which  in  youth  was  ^ied  sept.  i«5i. 
devoted  to  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  was  turned  by  the 
grace  of  God  into  the  channel  of  Christian  philan- 
thropy ;  and  it  was  an  energy  which  in  other  circum- 
stances might  have  made  him  a  Napoleon,  a  Nelson, 
or  a  Wellington.  But  with  an  apostolic  self-surrender 
it  was  all  consecrated  to  the  service  of  his  great 
master  Jesus  Christ.  The  projects  on  which  it  was 
expended  may  not  all  have  been  wisely  planned ; 
certain  it  is  that  his  moral  heroism  seems  to  have 
been   thwarted  in   many  of  its  high  resolves ;  but  it 

has  left  lessons  of  its   own,  notwithstanding,  which 
31* 


366  CONFLICT   WITH    SUFFERING. 

■will  long  be  precious  to  the  heart  of  the  church  of 
Christ. 

On  his  first  going  to  sea,  Allen  Gardiner  was 
restrained  from  many  evils  by  the  remembrance  of 
his  mother's  prayers.  In  moments  of  hazard  or  of 
temptation  his  thoughts  would  fly  homewards  un- 
bidden, and  imagine  the  mother  at  prayer  for  her  son. 
But  soon  the  thread  was  snapped,  which,  like  an 
electric  wire,  used,  as  a  touch  from  home,  to  convey 
an  instantaneous  flash  of  home  thoughts  and  home 
feelings  into  his  heart;  and,  when  his  mother  died, 
it  seemed  as  if  religion  would  die  too.  By  degrees 
the  very  form  of  it  was  laid  aside.  For  a  time,  young 
Gardiner  was  charmed  by  what  seemed  the  bold,  out- 
spoken opinions  of  sceptical  companions.  And,  from 
the  age  of  twenty  to  twenty-five,  his  life  was  spent  in 
the  continual  pursuit  of  pleasurable  excitement.  Still, 
amid  the  headstrong  passions  of  youth  and  the  eager 
pursuit  of  professional  occupations,  the  fire  of  early 
impressions  flashed  forth  at  the  death  or  danger  of  a 
friend,  or  his  own  narrow  escape  ;  and,  at  last,  some- 
where about  1820  or  1821,  being  then  a  lieutenant, 
with  his  ship  at  Penang,  he  was  brought  to  a  better 
mind.  And  when  he  returned  to  England,  in  1822,  he 
was  a  "  new  man,"  and  ever  after,  both  as  a  seamaii 
and  a  missionary,  he  "  lived  to  Christ." 

In  1843,  while  friends  were  deliberating  on  some  of 
his  proposals,  he  resolved  to  employ  the  pause  which 
was  forced  upon  him  in  circulating  the  word  of  God 
among  the  Spanish-speaking  population  of  South 
America.  In  executing  this  undertaking,  life  and 
liberty  were  often  in  danger,  but  he  counted  nothing 
dear  to  himself,  if  he  might  in  any  way  be  honoured  to 
carry  the  gospel  to  those  who  were  sitting  under  the 


MISSION   TO   TIERRA   DEL    FUEGO.  367 

shadow  of  papal  or  pagan  darkness.  In  spite  of  fever, 
priestly  opposition,  civil  war,  and  reckless  banditti, 
he  accomplished  his  work,  sold  his  Bibles,  and  in 
seven  months  was  again  in  England  to  resume  his  plea 
on  behalf  of  the  heatheus  of  Patagonia. 

At  last  a  small  society  was  formed  to  aid  him  in  his 
work,  and  three  unsuccessful  attempts  were  made,  from 
18-14  to  1850,  to  establish  a  mission  among  these  out- 
cast and  desperate  tribes.  In  1850,  Captain  Gardiner 
sailed  from  England  for  the  last  time,  accompanied  by 
a  brave  band  of  Christian  pioneers,  consisting  of  two 
catechists  (John  Maidment  and  Richard  Williams), 
a  ship  carpenter  (Joseph  Erwin),  who  had  been  with 
him  before,  and  gave  as  his  reason  for  going  now,  that 
*'  being  with  Capt.  Gardiner  was  like  a  heaven  upon 
earth — he  was  such  a  man  of  prayer,^'  and  three 
Cornish  fishermen,  of  high  character  and  simple  piety, 
who  oflFcred  themselves  to  man  two  launches  which  the 
captain  was  taking  with  him.  These  seven  warm- 
hearted men  parted,  on  the  7th  of  September,  1850, 
from  all  they  loved  on  earth. 

On  the  5th  of  December,  they  were  landed  on  Picton 
Island;  and  on  the  20th,  they  bade  final  adieu  to  the 
Ocean  Queen  which  had  conveyed  them  thither.  Their 
letters  of  that  date  breathed  a  spirit  of  cheerful  en- 
durance and  unanimity,  and  relieved  their  friends  in 
England  from  anxiety  on  their  behalf  It  was  believed 
that  the  stores  which  they  had  taken  with  them  were 
sufficient  to  last  for  six  months;  that  they  had  guns 
and  abundance  of  ammunition,  and  nets  for  fishing; 
and  that,  if  necessary,  the  mission  boats  made  a  retreat 
to  the  colony  possible.  But,  alas  !  the  first  day's  ex- 
pedition resulted  in  the  loss  of  the  anchor  of  one  of 
the  launches;  the  spare  timber,  and  both  the  dingies. 


368  CONFLICT   WITH   SUFFERING. 

And  the  next  day  startled  them  by  the  discovery  that 
the  powder,  which  they  had  brought  with  them,  and  on 
which  they  were  dependent  for  obtaining  fresh  food, 
had  never  been  landed,  and  was  away  in  the  ship  which 
had  brought  them. 

Of  the  disasters  which  followed,  amid  the  storms 
which  swept  over  the  inhospitable  shores  of  Tierra  del 
Fuego,  and  amid  the  treachery  and  cruelty  of  natives 
whose  language  they  did  not  understand,  the  tale  is 
one  of  the  saddest  that  has  ever  been  written  ;  but  our 
only  concern  with  it  at  present  is  to  illustrate  the 
grace  of  God  in  men  whose  faith  never  faltered,  and 
who  loved  the  Saviour  and  one  another  to  the  death. 

On  the  8th  of  May,  1851,  Capt,  Gardiner  wrote  in 
his  cavern  home,  "  Though  I  walk  in  the  midst  of 
trouble,  thou  wilt  revive  me.  Mine  eyes  are  unto  thee, 
0  God,  the  Lord.     In  thee  is  my  trust." 

A  few  weeks  later,  after  a  fearful  storm,  Capt.  Gar- 
diner read,  to  his  own  comfort  and  that  of  his  brothers 
in  affliction,  "  Wait  on  the  Lord,  be  of  good  courage, 
and  he  shall  strengthen  thine  heart.  Wait,  I  say,  on 
the  Lord."  And  in  his  diary  he  wrote,  as  on  several 
other  occasions,  what  was  indeed  •'  A  song  in  the 
night,"  which  concluded  thus: — 

*•  Let  that  sweet  word  our  spirits  cheer, 
Which  quell'd  the  toss'd  disciples'  fear, 

'  Be  not  afraid.' 
He  who  could  hid  the  tempest  cease. 
Can  keep  our  souls  in  perfect  peace, 

If  on  him  stay'd; 
And  we  shall  own  'twas  good  to  wait, 
No  blessing  ever  came  too  late." 

A  few  weeks  later  still,  and  the  holy  band  of  bro- 
thers began  to  realize  the  frightful  possibility  of 
famine  unrelieved.  One  of  them  was  dying,  and 
another  was   drooping.     And  Gardiner  wrote  in  his 


FAITH    UNMOVED.  369 

diary,  ^^  Be  merciful  unto  me,  0  God,  be  merciful 
unto  me  :  for  my  soul  trusteth  in  thee.  Yea,  in  the 
shadow  of  thy  wings  will  I  take  my  refuge,  until  these 
calamities  be  overpast."* 

"  Lord,  at  thy  feet  I  humbly  fall, 
And  all  I  have  to  thee  resign; 
Whate'er  thou  may'st  in  love  recall, 
'Tis  best  to  lack;  for  all  is  thine. 

"  But  should  thy  billows  o'er  me  break, 
When  called  to  suffering,  want,  or  pain, 
This  one  petition  I  would  make, 
'  Let  faith  burn  bright,  and  love  remain.'  " 

That  one  petition  was  answered.  Faith  did  burn 
bright,  and  love  remain  to  the  last.  Not  one  of  that 
consecrated  band  failed  in  his  faith  in  God,  or  his  love 
to  his  fellow-suflferers.  They  helped  and  nursed  each 
other  with  a  care  which  seemed  to  become  more  tender 
as  weakness  and  want  increased.  Nor  did  they  repent 
having  given  themselves  to  a  service  which  cost  them 
so  dear.  On  the  7th  of  August,  eleven  months  after 
he  had  left  England,  and  when  life  and  strength  were 
ebbing  fast,  he  prayed,  "  Let  not  this  mission  fail, 
though  we  should  not  be  permitted  to  labour  in  it; 
but  graciously  raise  up  other  labourers,  who  may  con- 
vey the  saving  truths  of  thy  gospel  to  the  poor  blind 
heathen  around  us.  Hasten  the  time  when  it  shall  be 
said  of  them  that  they  are  a  people  prepared  for  the 
Lord;  and  when  thou  dost  make  up  thy  jewels  in  the 
last  day,  may  there  be  many  of  them  shining  like  the 
stars  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  arrayed  in  white  robes, 
and  with  palms  in  their  hands,  ascribing  praise,  and 
honour,  and  glory,  and  power,  unto  him  who  loved 
them,  and  gave  himself  for  them.^'  Three  weeks  after 
he  wrote,  "  If  I  have  a  wish  for  my  fellow-men,  it  is 

*  Psalm  Ivii.  1. 


370  CONFLICT   WITH    SUFFERING. 

that  the  Tierra  del  Fuego  mission  might  be  prosecuted 
with  vigour.  But  the  Lord  will  direct  and  do  all ;  for 
the  times  and  the  seasons  are  his,  and  the  hearts  of  all 
are  in  his  hands." 

Captain  Gardiner  was   not  alone  in  his  faith  and 
peace.     The  diary  of  Mr.  Williams, 

Kiehard  'WilUamB  ;    '■  •' 

May  i5,*i8i5?&  the  surgcon,  breathed  the  same  spirit. 
Sept.  1861.  jj^  March,  he  wrote,  "Our  preserved 

meat  is  now  nearly  out,  our  store  of  spirits  nearly  ex- 
hausted; and  when  these  are  ended,  as  in  a  week  or 
two  they  will  be,  then  with  the  prophet  Habakkuk  I 
will  exclaim,  as  I  know  by  grace  I  shall  be  able  to  do, 
'Although  the  fig  tree  shall  not  blossom,  neither  shall 
fruit  be  in  the  vines  ;  the  labour  of  the  olive  shall  fail, 
and  the  fields  shall  yield  no  meat;  the  flock  shall  be 
cut  off  from  the  fold,  and  there  shall  be  no  herd  in 
the  stalls :  yet  I  will  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  I  will  joy  in 
the  God  of  my  salvation.*  I  have  been  greatly  gra- 
tified and  affected  by  pleasing  evidence  that  the  work 
of  grace  is  deepened  in  my  brethren's  minds.  This, 
not  in  one,  but  in  all.  The  trials  and  dangers  we  have 
been  subject  to  have,  by  the  sanctifying  grace  of  God, 
had  a  gracious  influeoce.  Yesterday  and  Saturday  I 
was  quite  affected  by  the  kindness  of  the  captain,  and 
his  humble  and  gentle  deportment;  his  prayer  too, 
yesterday,  was  an  outpouring  of  his  soul  before  God, 
in  so  unaffected  and  sincere  a  manner,  with  such  un- 
qualified expressions  of  resignation  to  the  will,  and 
humble  trust  in  the  mercy  of  God,  that  it  did  make 
me  own  with  joy,  that  here  is  a  child  of  God  address- 
ing the  Father  of  all  mercies.  This  morning,  too,  the 
prayer  of  Mr.  Maidment  was  in  like  manner  a  sincere 
breathing  out  of  the  soul  in  humble  supplication  and 


DEATH    OF   GARDINER   AND   WILLIAMS.         371 

confident  trust  in  God.  Oh  !  I  am  glad  and  rejoice  in 
the  Lord  to  see  my  brethren  thus  meek  and  trustful/' 
The  last  entry  in  Mr.  Williams's  diary  is  dated, 
"  Cook's  river,  Sunday  night,  @r  possibly  Monday 
morning,  June  21  or  22," — the  shortest  day  of  those 
regions,  when  the  night  lasts  sixteen  hours.  It  tells 
how  Pearce  had  come  to  sit  up  with  the  invalids,  but 
had  been  persuaded  to  retire  to  rest ;  and  it  speaks  of 
Badcock  as  dying.  It  contains  expressions  which 
would  almost  indicate  that  the  mind  of  the  writer  was 
beginning  to  wander  j  but,  even  amidst  confused  per- 
ceptions, it  shows  that  his  faith  in  God  was  still  clear 
and  unclouded.  Its  last  words  are  :  "  He  that 
believeth  shall  not  be  confounded.  Here  I  rest  my 
hope.     The  Lord's  will  be  done." 

One  after  another  of  this  devoted  band  was  taken 
to  his  rest.  Captain  Gardiner  was  the  fifth  to  die. 
The  last  words  he  wrote  were  : — ''  I  neither  hunger 
nor  thirst,  though  five  days  without  food.  Mar- 
vellous loving-kindness  to  nie,  a  sinner  !"  He  died 
alone,  and  was  unburied.  The  survivors,  Mr.  Williams 
and  Pearce,  one  of  the  Cornish  men,  who  had  been 
for  some  time  separated  from  their  friends  by  a  mile 
and  a  half's  distance,  were  taken  to  their  rest  two  days 
after,  and  the  mission  was  extinct.  "■  Here  is  the 
patience  of  the  saints  :  here  are  they  that  keep  the 
commandment  of  God,  and  the  faith  of  Jesus  Christ. 
And  I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven  saying  unto  me.  Write, 
Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord  from  hence- 
forth :  Yea,  saith  the  Spirit,  that  they  may  rest  from 
their  labours  ;  and  their  works  do  follow  them. — They 
shall  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst  any  more. — For 
the  Lamb  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  feed 


372  CONFLICT   WITH   SUFFERING. 

them."*  The  rain  poured  down  from  above,  the 
winds  blew  loud  and  strong;  but  a  sleepless  Eye 
watched  over  their  diaries  and  memoranda,  that  they 
might  tell  a  tale  of-suflfering  and  faith  such  as  has 
seldom  been  told.  As  early  as  the  January  preceding, 
a  vessel  sailing  from  Monte  Video  was  instructed  to 
call  at  Picton  Island  to  inquire  after  and  assist  the 
mission  party,  but  she  was  wrecked.  In  June,  a 
second  vessel  was  commissioned  to  perform  the  same 
service,  but  the  captain  acted  contrary  to  his 
express  engagement  and  instructions.  As  soon  as 
this  dereliction  of  duty  was  discovered,  another 
vessel  was  dispatched  on  a  special  voyage ;  but  she 
reached  the  scene  of  disaster  only  in  time  to  rescue 
the  papers  of  the  party,  and  commit  to  the  grave  the 
unburied  remains  of  the  holy  men  whose  spirits  had 
already  found  rest  in  the  bosom  of  their  God. 

The  mystery  of  such  events  as  that  which  closed  the 
earnest  labours  of  Allen  Gardiner  is  hidden  from  us 
now  to  be  unfolded  another  day. 

"  We  see  but  dimly  through  the  mists  and  vapours, 
Amid  these  earthly  damps : 
What  seem  to  us  but  sad,  funereal  tapers 
May  be  heaven's  distant  lamps." 

"  Many  are  the  afflictions  of  the  righteous,"  in 
their  persons,  in  their  families,  and  in  the  world ; 
some  of  them  known  only  to  Him  that  seeth  in 
secret,  and  others  endured  before  the  gaze  of  friend 
and  foe.  Space  would  fail  to  tell  their  number,  or  to 
show  forth  the  praise  of  that  divine  grace  which  sus- 
tains the  Christian  sufferer  both  in  the  silent  grief  of 
domestic  life,  and  in  the  pains  of  cruel  persecution. 

*  Revelation  xiv.  12, 13 ;  vii.  16,  17. 


NO    MAN    DIETH    TO    HIMSELF.  373 

But,  many  as  these  afflictions  are,  the  consolations  of 
the  divine  promise,  of  the  divine  word,  and  of 
the  divine  presence,  enable  "  the  righteous"  to 
sustain  them  all ;  and  they  find  the  deliverance 
that  was  effected  for  the  tempest-tossed  disciples  oa 
the  sea  of  Galilee  repeated  in  their  own  daily  expe- 
rience. 

"  Fear  was  ■within  the  tossing  bark 
When  stormy  winds  grew  loud, 
And  waves  eame  rolling  high  and  dark, 
And  the  tall  mast  was  bow'd. 

"  And  men  stood  breathless  in  their  dread, 
And  baifled  in  their  skill  ; 
But  One  was  there,  who  rose  and  said 
To  the  wild  sea — Be  still  I 

"And  the  wind  ceased — it  ceased :  that  word 
Pass'd  through  the  gloomy  sky  : 
And  troubled  billows  knew  their  Lord, 
And  fell  beneath  his  eye." 

We  have  remarked  in  another  part  of  this  volume 
on  the  law  of  social  existence,  that  no  man  liveth  to 
himself.  It  is  equally  a  law  of  our  social  existence 
that  no  man  dieth  unto  himself  Yet  the  latter  may 
not  be  so  obvious  ^s  the  former.  Thousands  die 
every  day  whose  names  have  never  travelled  beyond 
the  narrowest  bounds  of  their  family  circle.  They 
are  unknown  while  they  live;  they  are  unknown 
when  they  die.  Their  coming  into  the  world  is  as 
unobserved  as  the  budding  of  a  single  leaf  in  a  crowded 
forest ;  and  their  departure  is  as  unobserved  as  the  fall 
of  a  single  leaf  in  autumn.  Leaves  have  come  and 
leaves  have  gone  for  ages,  and  the  forest  seems  to  con- 
tinue as  it  was. 

More  impressive  still  is  another  oft-repeated  fi- 
gure of  man's  insignificance.     We  cast  a  pebble  into 

S2 


374  CONFLICT    WITH    DEATH. 

the  sea,  it  produces  a  momentary  circle  of  ripples, 
sinks  to  the  bottom  to  be  for  ever  forgotten ;  and 
there  it  lies,  while  the  waves  roll  over  it  as  if  it  were 
not,  and  retain  no  impression  of  having  once  been 
cleft  by  its  weight.  Even  so  is  it  with  man.  He 
sinks  into  his  grave  ;  he  is  forgotten  :  the  waves  of 
life  roll  on  as  if  he  had  never  been,  and  retain,  to  alT 
appearance,  no  impression  either  of  his  life  or  of  his 
death.  All  this  is  true  enough.  And  it  is  very 
humbling  to  man's  pride  that  it  should  be  so.  But 
the  comparison  implies  all  that  we  ask.  The  stone, 
however  small,  produces  a  circle  of  ripples  around  it. 
The  man,  too,  however  insignificant,  produces,  when 
he  goes  down  into  the  grave,  a  circle  of  ripples.  He 
dieth  not  unto  himself.  True,  the  ripples  on  the 
water  soon  disappear,  and  the  moral  effects  of  a  man's 
dying  may  soon  disappear  likewise.  That  is,  they  may 
soon  cease  to  be  traceable  by  the  human  eye.  But 
it  does  not  follow  that  they  are  in  no  sense  and  no- 
where permanent.  Science  tells  us  that  neither  ship 
nor  stone  can  sink  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea  without 
affecting  the  whole  body  of  the  ocean.  The  eye 
cannot  trace  the  effect — no  instrument  of  measure- 
ment can  verify  it — but  science  assures  us  of  it. 
The  smallest  change  in  the  bottom  of  the  ocean  affects 
its  whole  surface  ;  the  smallest  displacement  of  its 
waters  by  a  descending  body  affects  those  waters  to 
their  remotest  borders. 

Tell  us  not  then  of  the  pebble  that  is  forgotten, 
and  the  ripple  that  disappears.  No  man  dieth  to 
himself.  However  obscure  and  unknown  he  may 
have  been,  his  death  produces  some  impression;  feeble 
and  evanescent  it  may  appear,  but  still  real  and  more 
far-reaching  than  the  observer's  eye  can  trace.     While 


PRINCIPLE    OF    SCRIPTURE    BIOGRAPHY.         375 

the  moral  atmosphere  of  the  world,  no  longer  re- 
ceiving contributions  from  his  words  and  deeds,  is 
changed  to  the  extent  to  which  it  was  heretofore 
affected  by  them. 

The  Bible  touches  but  very  slightly  upon  the 
deaths  of  those  whose  history  it  records.  '•'-  The 
principle  of  Scripture  biography  seems  to  be  that  of 
recording  a  man's  life  and  deeds  so  far  as  they  have 
tended  to  the  furtherance  of  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  to 
tell  us  what  he  thought  and  what  he  did  while  the 
scene  of  life  was  before  him,  and  while  his  thinking 
and  doing  could  forward  the  work  which  he  was  sent  to 
do;  and  to  leave  almost  or  quite  unnoticed  the  manner 
of  his  departure  hence.''  We  have  the  history  of  the 
death  of  one  apostle,  and  only  one — that  of  James,  who 
perished  by  the  sword ;  and  his  martyrdom  occupies 
but  a  single  verse,  and  seems  to  have  been  introduced 
only  because  it  was  followed  by  an  attempt  upon  the 
life  of  Peter,  which  did  not  succeed.  We  know 
nothing  from  Scripture  of  the  death  of  Peter,  or  of 
John,  or  of  Paul.  "  The  book  which  registers  their 
deeds  does  not  sing  their  requiem ;  it  is  the  record  of 
the  noble  efforts  which  they  made  to  preach  the 
gospel  of  Christ,  while  they  could  travel  from  one 
country  to  another,  and  could  endure  hardness  as 
good  soldiers,  and  could  offer  themselves  up  a  living 
sacrifice;  and  does  not  contain,  as  we  might  have 
fancied  that  it  would,  any  account  of  the  manner 
in  which  they  left  this  world,  or  of  the  hopes  or  fears 
or  degree  of  assurance  with  which  they  passed  from 
hence  to  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord."  Of  the  senti- 
ments of  Paul,  in  anticipation  of  his  death,  we  have 
some  knowledge  from  a  letter  of  his  own.    "  I  am  now 


376  CONFLICT    WITH    DEATH. 

ready  to  be  offered,  and  the  time  of  my  departure  is 
at  hand.    I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have  finished  my 
course,  I  have  kept  the  faith  :  henceforth  there  is  laid 
up  for  me  a  crown  of  righteousness,  which  the  Lord, 
the  righteous  judge,  shall  give  unto  me  in  that  day; 
and  not  to  me  only,  but  unto  all  them  also  that  love 
his  appearing."  *     But  of  his  actual  sentiments  when 
the  hour  arrived,  and  when  the  Roman  lictors  led  him 
forth  to  die,  we  know  nothing.   The  death  of  the  martyr 
Stephen  seems  to  be  an  exception  to  this  rule.     We 
are  told  how  he  died,  and  how  he  felt  in  dying.     But 
it  has  been  remarked,  that  ^'  the  death  of  the  proto- 
martyr   of  the  faith   was  precisely  his    contribution 
towards  the  great  cause ',  nothing  which  he  did  in  the 
living  discharge  of  his  diaconate  can  be  compared  in 
importance  with  the  testimony  which  he  gave  to  the 
truth  and  power  of  the  gospel,  when  he,  the  first  of  the 
noble  army  of  (Christian)  martyrs,  died  in  the  vision 
of  Christ  and  in  charity  with  those  who  stoned  him.'^f 
There  is  another  exception,   however,  more  illus- 
trious far  than  that  of  Stephen,  in  reference  to  which 
no  such  qualifying  remark  has  to  be  made.     It  is  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.     The  evangelists  do  not  all  record 
his  birth,  they  do  not  all  record  his  ascension  ;  but  not 
one  of  them  has  omitted  to  record  his  death,  and  to 
record   it    with    a    minuteness   of    detail    which    is 
bestowed  on  hardly  any  other  portion  of  his  history. 
His  last  acts  and  words  are  given  us.    The  feelings  of 
the  sufferer  are   laid  bare — his   mental  contest  when 
he  saw  death  approaching,  his  last  conversations  with 
his  friends,  his  farewell  to  his  mother,  his  last  prayer, 
his  expiring  words ; — they  are  all  recorded  on  a  more 
durable  tablet  than  the  engraved  rock. 

*  2  Timothy  iv.  6—8.  f  Rev.  Ilarvey  Goodwin  :  Hulsean  lectures,  1S56. 


WILLIAM    WARDLAW.  377 

Whether  we  look  at  the  design  of  Christ's  d}'ing, 
or  at  its  manner,  we  feel  that  he  "  died  not  unto  him- 
self." As  to  its  design,  it  was,  let  it  never  be  forgot- 
ten, to  make  atonement  for  human  guilt ;  and  his  fol- 
lowers cannot  be  fellow-workers  with  him  in  its  accom- 
plishment. There  he  stands,  absolutely  alone,  and  of 
the  people  there  can  be  none  with  him. 

The  manner  of  his  death  is  a  blessing  likewise. 
We  cannot  read  the  record  of  his  words  and  acts  and 
feelings,  apart  from  the  great  propitiation  he  was 
offering,  without  feeling  that  he  died  not  unto 
himself.  That  record  has  been  a  fountain,  never 
dry,  never  sealed,  whence  have  flowed  rich  comforts  to 
the  suffering  people  of  God  for  eighteen  centuries. 
"  With  strong  crying  and  tears,"  have  some  of  them 
prayed  to  be  "  saved  from  death."  Shrinking  from 
its  pains  and  darkness,  they  have  said,  '^  Father,  if  it 
be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me."  And, 
blessed  be  God,  that  these  shrinkings  may  be  felt 
and  these  prayers  offered  "without sin."  But  through 
the  conflict  we  must  follow  Christ  to  the  triumph,  if 
we  would  still  be  in  this  matter  "  without  sin,"  and 
say,  as  unreservedly  as  he  did,  "  0  my  father,  if  this 
cup  may  not  pass  from  me,  except  I  drink  it,  thy  will 
be  done." 

This  conflict,  however,  is  far  from  necessary  to  the 
Christian's  experience,  as  it  was  to  that  of  the  great 
Sin-bearer  when  approaching  the  altar  of  the  world's 
redemption.  Mr.  William  Wardlaw  was  a  man  of 
deep  humility,  and  of  enlightened,  warm-hearted  piety. 
Dying  at  the  ripe  age  of  eighty,  he  was  visited  by  some 
Christian  friends,  to  whom  he  discoursed  in  his  usual 
cheerful  manner,  and  spoke  with  humble  but  unfalter- 
ing confidence  of  his  hopes   for  eternity,  founded  on 

32* 


378  CONFLICT    WITH    DEATH. 

the  Saviour's  merits.  One  of  the  party,  whose  views 
of  divine  truth  were  of  a  kiud  which  led  him  not  only 
to  indulge  in  gloomy  feeling  and  anxious  forebodings, 
but  even  to  attach  to  these  a  certain  religious  worth, 
was  somewhat  scandalized  by  the  brightness  which 
seemed  diffused  over  the  soul  of  the  dying  saint ;  and 
he  could  not  refrain  from  endeavouring  to  recall  him 
to  what  he  considered  a  more  befitting  state  of  mind^ 
^'  Oh  !  Mr.  Wardlaw,"  he  said,  "  does  it  beseem  us  to 
pass  through  the  dark  valley  without  a  struggle  ?  Ke- 
member  how  it  fared  with  our  Master  :  was  not  his 
soul  troubled  within  him,  and  was  not  he  sorrowful 
even  unto  death  ?"  "  Ay,'^  exclaimed  the  dying 
saint,  rising  on  his  couch,  "  it  was  even  so  ;  and  oh  ! 
man,  it  is  that  very  trouble  and  that  very  sorrow  that 
make  me  go  so  lightly  through  the  valley  this  day. 
Sureli/  he  hath  borne  our  griefs ,  and  carried  our  sor- 
rows.'' * 

Mr.  Wilberforce  often  mentioned  it  as  a  proof  of 
great  wisdom  on  the  part  of  Bunyan,  that  while  the 
younger  believer,  Hopeful,  is  described  in  the  Pilgrim's 
Progress  as  passing  easily  through  the  stream  of  death, 
a  less  buoyant  hope  and  a  deeper  flood  are  represented 
as  the  portion  of  the  aged  Christian.  ''  It  is  the  pecu- 
liarity," he  said,  ^'  of  the  Christian  religion  that 
humility  and  holiness  increase  in  equal  proportions." 
When  Luther  lost  his  daughter  Madeleine,  aged 
fourteen  years,  he  said  to  his  weeping  wife,  "  Consider, 
dear  Catherine,  whither  she  has  gone.  She  has  surely 
made  a  happy  journey.  Children  do  not  dispute. 
With  children  all  is  simple  ;  they  die  without  fear  or 
anguish,   without    disputes,    without    the    temptations 

*  Memoirs  of  his  son,  Dr.  Wardlaw. 


A   RAILWAY    LABOURER.  379 

which  usually  beset  death,  without  bodily  pain,-much 
as  if  they  went  to  sleep. '^ 

But  age  and  experience  are  not  the  only  occasions 
of  the  difference  between  Hopeful  and  Christian.  The 
young  have  often  to  pass  through  conflicts  like  those 
of  Christian,  and  the  aged  are  often  buoyant  and 
joyous  as  was  Hopeful.  We  shall  give  an  example  of 
each. 

Thomas  Ward  was  a  railway  labourer,  and  was 
brought  to  Christ  by  the  instructions 
of  an  earnest-minded  lady  at  Becken-  Bauway  Ll^our4r^ 
ham.  Soon  after  his  conversion  he 
obtained  a  situation  on  the  North  Western  Rail- 
way, and  one  week  after  entering  on  its  duties  his 
life  was  endangered  by  an  accident  in  which  one  of 
his  arms  was  wrenched  off  between  an  engine  and 
wagons.  "  Don't  you  fret  for  me,"  said  the  suffering 
man  in  the  hospital  to  Miss  Marsh ;  "  that  would  be 
the  worst  of  all  :  and  you  wouldn't,  if  you  knew  how 
God  had  been  all  love  to  me  through  the  whole  of 
this  trouble."  "  Oh  !  Thomas,"  she  replied,  "  you 
would  never  say  a  word  that  was  not  quite  true,  I 
know.  Do  you  really  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  have 
never  for  a  moment  doubted  that  '  God  is  love,'  even 
under  this  terrible  blow  ?"  "  Never,  for  one  moment. 
During  the  six  hours  and  a  half  before  I  got  up  here 
and  got  help,  I  kept  thinking  what  my  Saviour  bore 
for  me,  and  that  my  sufferings  were  nothing  to  his — 
nothing.  They  couldn't  be.  How  could  I  put  such  a 
lot  into  it,  as  he  could  ?    He  was  God,  as  well  as  man." 

Three  months  after  the  accident,  Thomas  Ward  was 
able  to  visit  Beckenham,  his  spiritual  birthplace,  but 
it  was  only  to  die  there.     For  a  time  his  peace  flowed 


880  CONFLICT    WITH    DEATH. 

like  a  river,  *'  My  Saviour  is  always  near  me ;  he  never 
leaves  me,"  he  said  in  the  midst  of  great  suffering. 
But  a  few  days  after  his  arrival,  when  friends  were 
watching  the  rapid  ebbing  of  his  life,  he  said  to  Miss 
Marsh  in  a  low  voice  of  agony,  "  Do  not  give  thanks 
for  me.  I  am  not  saved.  I  am  not  safe  in  Jesus." 
*'  Oh,  dear  Thomas,"  she  said,  "  you  are  not  going  to 
doubt  your  Saviour  now,  after  all  he  has  shown  you  of 
his  love  in  this  illness  ?"  "  But  I  do  doubt  him,"  he 
replied  with  increasing  fervour  of  anguish.  ''  But  you 
do  not  doubt  that  he  is  the  Son  of  God  and  the  Saviour 
of  sinners  V  "  No,  not  that,  not  that  I  But  if  he  were 
m?/  Saviour,  he  would  not  leave  me  now."  "  But  he 
has  not  left  you.  He  will  never  leave  you.  This  is 
the  devil's  last  assault  upon  you  ;  because  he  knows 
that  you  are  just  escaping  from  his  grasp  for  ever. 
But  the  Saviour's  truth  is  pledged  to  you,  '  Where  I 
am,  there  shall  my  servant  be.'  "  "  But  I  am  not  his 
servant;  if  I  had  been,  he  would  not  have  forsaken  me. 
I  fear  I  have  never  rightly  come  to  him."  ''Well 
then,  come  no2o,  and  you  shall  find  the  promise  just 
as  true,  '  Him  that  cometh  to  me  I  will  in  no  wise 
cast  out.'  '  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his 
only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever'  believeth  in  him 
should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life.' " 

Then,  he  poured  out  his  soul  in  prayer — such  a 
prayer  as  only  one  can  pray  who  sees  the  hope  of  im- 
mortal life  vanishing  from  him,  and  grasps  at  it  in 
agony,  with  just  enough  of  hope  left  to  rouse  him  out 
of  the  inaction  of  despair.  "  0  God,  forgive  me.  0 
God,  save  me.  0  Lord  Jesus,  pour  out  thy  Spirit 
upon  me.  l)o  not,  do  not,  cast  me  out.  Saviour  of 
sinners.  Blessed  Saviour,  do,  do  save  me.  Wash 
me  from   all   my  sins  in   thy  blood.     It  can  cleanse 


VICTORY    AT   THE    LAST.  881 

from  ci^^sins;  why  not  mine?  Blessed  Jesus,  do  save 
me/' 

In  this  manner  he  went  on  for  nearly  twenty 
minutes,  *^  pouring  out  his  heart  like  water/'  Those 
who  stood  by  were  silent  and  held  their  breath  as  in 
awe  of  the  presence  of  an  almost  unclothed  soul, 
trembling  within  sight  of  an  open  hell  and  an  open 
heaven,  and  pleading  for  life  with  its  God.  Towards 
the  close  of  the  prayer,  we  are  told,  there  came  a 
strange  blending  of  delight  in  the  Redeemer's  glory 
with  despair  of  ever  beholding  it.  "  Yes,  blessed 
Jesus,  I  believe  on  thee.  Thou  wast  a  man  upon 
earth.  Thou  art  a  God  in  heaven,  and  a  man  too. 
Thou  canst  never  die  again.  I'm  so  glad  of  that. 
Thou  wilt  be  happy  for  ever  in  glory  with  thy  Father. 
But  I  shall  never  see  thee;  never  see  thee;  never  see 
thee,  blessed  Jesus, — never,  never."  He  then  turned 
to  Miss  Marsh  with  a  look  which  pierced  her  heart. 
''  Where  is  he  ?  I  cannot  find  him.  I  shall  never  find 
him  now.  I  have  lost  him — lost  him  for  ever." 
''Never  mind  about  finding  him,  dear  friend,"  she  re- 
plied ;  "  HE  HAS  FOUND  YOU.  He  Came  into  the  world 
to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost — to  seek  and 
to  save  you,  lost  Thomas  Ward;  and  all  the  devils 
in  hell  shall  not  hinder  him  from  laying  you  on  his 
shoulders  and  bringing  you  home  rejoicing."  ^'  Now 
then,"  she  added  to  those  who  stood  around,  "  come 
and  plead  with  your  God  and  his." 

They  knelt  and  pleaded  with  the  Saviour,  for  his  own 
glory's  sake,  for  the  sake  of  his  redeemed  dying  child, 
and  for  the  sake  of  those  who  were  witnesses  of  this  ter- 
rible effort  of  the  fierce  adversary,  that  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  would  show  himself  to  be  the  great  Captain  of 
his  salvation,  and  fight  by  his  side,  so  that  the  weary 


382  CONFLICT  WITH  DEATH. 

soldier  might  be  brought  oif  from  his  last  conflict 
'^  more  than  a  conqueror  through  him  that  loved  him." 
Then  pausing  for  a  moment,  she  turned  her  eyes  to- 
wards the  dying  man,  and  "  beheld  his  face,"  as  it  is 
written  of  the  first  martyr,  "  as  it  were  the  face  of  an 
angel."  The  pulse  had  ceased  to  beat  except  by  an 
occasional  flickering.  Words  were  breathed  by  his 
lips,  yet  for  a  time  too  faint  for  human  ear  to  catch. 
At  length  they  were  heard,  "  Oh  !  do  you  see  him  ? 
I  see  him  now.  He  is  here  ;  he  is  near — he  is  with 
me — he  is  around  me ;  he  will  never  let  me  go.  How 
could  I  ever  doubt  him  ?  He  is  the  Saviour  of  sinners. 
He  is  my  Saviour.  Jesus  is  mine,  and  I  am  his.  His 
blood  has  bought  me.  I  never  knew  what  he  is  till 
now.  Oh  !  tell  them  all  to  come  to  him,  to  come  now. 
Tell  every  man  you  meet.  Christ  for  every  man,  I 
say  3"  and  his  voice  rang  through  the  room,  "  Jesus 
Christ  for  every  man."  He  paused  for  breath  ; 
then  gently  added,  ''  My  blessed,  blessed  Saviour, 
world  without  end,  amen.  Blessed,  blessed  Jesus." 
These  were  his  last  words;  and  as  the  clock  struck  one 
on  the  Sabbath  morning,  he  entered  into  life  eternal, 
^*  more  than  a  conqueror." 

While  young  Christians  have  thus  to  battle  with 
Satan  and  the  unbelief  of  their  own  hearts,  ripe  and 
aged  Christians  have  often  passed  through  the  waters 
of  death  in  the  enjoyment  of  unclouded  light  and 
peace  :  tlieir  battles  have  already  been  fought,  and 
Satan  has  departed  from  them,  not  for  a  season,  but 
for  ever.  It  was  so  with  Dr.  Payson,  the  variety  and 
severity  of  whose  conflicts  we  have  already  seen. 
When  compelled  by  disease  to  relinquish  public 
labour,  ho  enjoyed  a  happiness  which  his  heart  could 


PAYSON   DYING.  883 

not  have  conceived  before.  "  If  God  had  told  me  some 
time  ago/'  he  said,  "  that  he  was  about  to  make  me  as 
happy  as  I  could  be  in  this  world,  and  then  had  told 
me  that  he  should  begin  by  crippling  me  in  all  my 
limbs,  and  removing  me  from  all  my  usual  sources  of 
enjoyment,  I  should  have  thought  it  a  very  strange 
mode  of  accomplishing  his  purpose.  And  yet  how  is 
his  wisdom  manifest  even  in  this  !  For  if  you  should  see 
a  man  shut  up  in  a  close  room,  idolizing  a  set  of  lamps, 
and  rejoicing  in  their  light,  and  you  wished  to  make 
him  truly  happy,  you  would  begin  by  blowing  out  all 
his  lamps,  and  then  throw  open  the  shutters  to  let  in 
the  light  of  heaven."  On  being  asked,  "  Are  your 
views  of  heaven  clearer  and  brighter  than  ever  be- 
fore ?"  he  said,  *'  Why,  for  a  few  moments  I  may  have 
had  as  bright;  but  formerly  my  joys  were  tumultuous  : 
now  all  is  calm  and  peaceful.''  "  When  I  read  Bun- 
yan's  description  of  the  land  of  Beulah,  where  the 
sun  shines  and  the  birds  sing  day  and  night,  I  used 
to  doubt  whether  there  was  such  a  place ;  but  now 
my  own  experience  has  convinced  me  of  it ;  and 
it  infinitely  transcends  all  my  previous  conceptions." 
In  a  letter  which  he  dictated  to  his  sister  at  this  time 
he  dwells  on  this  idea:  ''  Were  I  to  adopt  the  figura- 
tive language  of  Bunyan,  I  might  date  this  letter  from 
the  land  of  Beulah,  of  which  I  have  been  for  some 
weeks  a  happy  inhabitant.  The  celestial  city  is  full 
in  my  view.  Its  glories  beam  upon  me,  its  breezes 
fan  me,  its  odours  are  wafted  to  me,  its  sounds  strike 
upon  my  ears,  and  its  spirit  is  breathed  into  my  heart. 
Nothing  separates  me  from  it  but  the  river  of  death, 
which  now  appears  but  as  an  insignificant  rill,  that 
may  be  crossed  at  a  single  step,  whenever  God  shall 
give  permission." 


384  CONFLICT    WITH    DEATH. 

Bright  as  was  Payson's  death-bed  experience,  it  is 
in  his  holy  and  useful  life  that  we  find  the  best  evi- 
dence of  his  true  character.  Dr.  Dwight  replied  to 
some  question  that  was  put  to  him  in  his  last 
moments,  touching  his  spiritual  exercises,  "It  is  not 
the  death  but  the  life  to  which  you  must  look."  If 
we  have  witnessed  a  consistent,  godly  walk  in  a  pro- 
fessed Christian,  we  have  no  right  to  call  in  questiou 
the  genuineness  of  his  piety,  even  though  his  death- 
bed demonstrations  may  not  be  what  we  desire  ;  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  we  may  well  tremble  for  the  issue 
of  an  apparently  careless  life  in  a  professed  Christian, 
however  the  death-scene  may  seem  gilded  with 
glory. 

The  outward  circumstances  of  the  Christian's  death 
"  avail  nothing."  The  Rev.  J.  Carter,  a  Puritan 
minister,  came  unexpectedly  on  one  occasion  behind 
a  Christian  of  his  acquaintance,  who  was  occupied  in 
his  business  as  a  tanner.  He  gave  him  a  pleasant 
tap  on  the  shoulder,  whereupon  the  good  man  started, 
looked  behind  him,  and  said,  "  Sir,  I  am  ashamed 
that  you  should  find  me  thus  employed."  Mr.  Carter 
replied,  "  Let  Christ,  when  he  cometh,  find  me  so 
doing."  "  What,"  said  the  good  man,  "  doing  thus?" 
"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Carter,  '^  faithfully  performing  the 
duties  of  my  calling." 

Whatever  varieties  may  be  found  in  the  dying 
experience  of  Christians,  there  is  a  singular  unity  in 
one  point — the  ground  of  hope.  Not  the  toils  of 
philanthropy,  not  the  virtues  of  private  life,  were  the 
ground  of  Wilberforce's  confidence  in  the  prospect  of 
eternity.  -  ''  I   have   nothing  whatever  to  urge,"   he 


(( 


COMMON    GROUND   OF    HOPE.  885 

said,  ''but  the  poor  publican's  plea,  'God  be  mer- 
ciful to  me,  a  sinner.'  "  "  How  little,"  said  Lady 
Huntingdon,  "  could  anything  of  mine  give  a  moment's 
rest  to  a  departing  soul  !  So  much  sin  and  self 
mixing  with  the  best;  and  always  so  short  of  what  we 
owe."  "  I  confess,"  she  remarked  to  a  friend,  "  I 
have  no  hope  but  that  which  inspired  the  dying  male- 
factor at  the  side  of  ray  Lord,  and  I  must  be  saved  in 
the  same  way — as  freely,  as  fully,  or  not  at  all." 
"  Madam,  I  cordially  join  you,"  her  friend  answered, 
and  feel  with  you,  that  though  our  lives  may  be 
devoted  to  the  work  of  Jesus,  and  our  deaths  the  con- 
sequence of  the  service,  it  is  not  to  these  sacrifices  we 
should  look  for  comfoFt  in  a  dying  hour."  She 
replied,  "No,  verily;"  and,  enlarging  on  the  idea  of 
the  mixture  of  infirmity  and  corruption  which  tarnishes 
all  our  best-meant  services,  she  added,  "  that  a  sinner 
could  only  rest  satisfactorily  on  one  foundation,  and 
would  find  nothing  in  the  best  works  of  his  best  day, 
that  he  could  dare  produce  before  God  for  its  own 
sake — suflficiently  blessed  and  secure  if  he  could  but 
cry,  '  God  be  merciful  to  me,  a  sinner;  and  let  me  be 
found  accepted  in  the  Beloved,  and  complete  in  him.'  " 
"  Jesus  Christ  is  my  All  in  all,"  said  Charles  Simeon.. 
"Do  you  see  any  sting  here  ?"  he  said  to  those  who 
surrounded  his  dying  bed.  "  No,  indeed,"  they 
answered,  "  it  is  all  taken  away."  "  Does  not  this 
prove  that  my  principles  were  not  founded  on  fancies 
or  enthusiasm,  but  that  there  is  a  reality  in  them  ? 
And  I  find  them  sufl&cient  to  support  me  in  death." 
"  Oh  !  I  am  naked,"  said  the  holy  Hewitson  ;  "  I  am 
utterly  naked — nothing,  nothing  but  the  righteous- 
ness of  Emmanuel.  The  sins  of  my  ministry,  how 
appalling  to  me  now  !     The  blood  of  souls  !     But  the 

33 


386  CONFLICT   WITH  DEATH. 

blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin."  "  I 
have  no  hope,"  said  Lord  Teignmouth,  "  but  in 
Christ  Jesus,  in  his  sacrifice,  in  his  blood,  in  his 
righteousness."  "  As  for  myself,"  said  the  Rev. 
Edward  Bickersteth,  "  nothing  can  be  more  weak  or 
more  worthless  than  I  am.  I  can  only  rest  myself  on 
the  merit  of  the  Lord  Jesus."  Again,  "  Lord,  I 
cannot  have  rejoicing  in  myself,  for  all  is  most  defec- 
tive and  defiled.  Yet  such  thou  receivest.  Oh, 
wonderful  grace  !"  And  when  death  was  very  near 
at  hand  he  said,  "  I  have  no  confidence  in  any  good- 
ness or  merit  of  my  own ;  I  place  my  whole  trust  in 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  To  his  medical  man  he  said, 
"  1  find  all  my  principles  confirmed  by  my  last  hours  j 
I  have  believed  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  he 
supports  me  now."  Sir  Edward  Parry  said,  the  day 
before  his  death,  "I  can  only  say  that  in  Christ  and 
him  crucified  is  all  my  salvation  and  all  my  desire." 
"  Yes,"  said  Lady  Parry,  "  that  is  as  he  would  have 
it,  that  all  but  himself  should  be  as  nothing."  "  Oh," 
he  replied,  ''  nothing,  nothing — I  sweep  it  all  away  : 
he  is  all  my  salvation  and  all  my  desire."  The  Rev. 
Legh  Richmond,  when  dying,  said  to  a  friend,  "  It  is 
only  by  coming  to  Christ  as  a  little  child,  and  as  for 
the  first  time,  that  I  can  get  peace."  "  Brother, 
brother,"  he  said  to  another  friend,  *'  I  cast  myself  on 
the  sovereign,  free,  and  full  grace  of  God  in  the 
covenant  by  Christ  Jesus."  "  I  find  no  satisfaction 
in  looking  at  anything  I  have  done,"  said  Dr.  Payson 
on  his  deathbed.  "  I  want  to  leave  all  this  behind — • 
it  is  nothing — and  fly  to  Christ  to  be  clothed  in  his 
righteousness."  Again,  ''  I  have  done  nothing  myself. 
I  have  not  fought,  but  Christ  has  fought  for  me  j  I 
have  not  run,  but  Christ  has  carried  me ;  I  have  not 


CONFIDENCE   OP   LOVE.  387 

worked,  but  Christ  has  wrought  in  me  :  Christ  has 
done  all/' 

These  Christians,  and  others  who,  like  them,  have 
thus  avowed  their  exclusive  trust  in  the  Saviour's 
righteousness,  have  not  been  unconscious  of  the  holi- 
ness inwrought  in  them  by  the  Spirit  of  God. 
''There  is  a  confidence  frequently  adverted  to  in  the 
apostolical  writings,"  says  Dr.  Wardlaw,  "  which 
arises  from  the  fruits  of  faith,  as  the  evidence  to  the 
believer  of  his  personal  interest  in  Christ  and  his 
salvation.  And  this  kind  of  confidence  is  perfectly 
compatible  with  the  spirit  of  entire  self-renunciation, 
and  simple-hearted  and  exclusive  reliance  on  the  mercy 

of  God  through  the  cross The  two  feelings  are 

inseparable  ;  and  they  are  proportionate  to  each  other. 
In  proportion  as  we  are  under  the  influence  of  a  deep 
sense  of  unworthiness  and  a  spirit  of  self-renunciation, 
and  feel  ourselves  debtors  to  free  mercy  through 
atoning  blood,  will  be  the  strength  of  our  gratitude  to 
the  God  of  salvation  for  his  abundant  grace;  and  then, 
by  a  beautiful  reciprocation,  in  proportion  to  the 
strength  of  grateful  love,  will  be  the  fruits  of  prac- 
tical service,  and  the  confidence  inspired  by  these  as 
the  evidence  of  interest  in  Christ,"  *'  He  that  hath 
wrought  us  for  the  selfsame  thing" — the  final  pos- 
session of  the  heavenly  inheritance — "  is  God,  who 
also  hath  given  unto  us  the  earnest  of  the  Spirit. 
Therefore" — because  we  have  been  so  "  wrought"  or 
prepared — "  we  are  always  confident,  knowing  that, 
whilst  we  are  at  home  in  the  body,  we  are  absent 
from  the  Lord."*  **  Herein,"  says  John,  "is  our 
love  made  perfect,  that  we  may  have  boldness  in 
the  day  of  judgment ;  because  as  he  is,  so  are  we  iu 

*  2  Corinthians  v.  5—7. 


388  CONFLICT   WITH   DEATH. 

this  world."  *  The  apostle's  sentiment  seems  to  be, 
that  the  evidence  and  manifestation  of  love  to  Grod  is 
to  be  sought  in  resemblance  to  him  ;  and  that  the 
more  perfect  the  resemblance,  the  more  perfect  is  the 
manifestation  of  love.  "  This  is  the  perfection  of  love, 
that  as  he  is,  so  are  we  in  this  world  ;  so  that  we  may 
have  boldness  in  the  day  of  judgment."  The  primary 
confidence  of  a  sinner  before  God  can  never  rest  on 
any  other  foundation  than  the  righteousness  of  his 
Son.  But  the  believer's  consciousness  of  growing 
conformity  to  his  image  imparts  to  him  that  "  bold- 
ness" which  naturally  springs  from  the  assurance  that 
he  has  passed  from  death  unto  life. 

It  is  on  this  principle  we  interpret  the  dying  words 
of  General  Havelock.  When,  after  four  days'  illness, 
brought  on  by  laborious  anxieties  and  privations  too 
great  for  mortal  flesh  to  bear,  he  lay  on  his  death-bed, 
and  said  to  his  friend  and  companion  in  arms,  Sir 
James  Outram,  "  For  more  than  forty  years  I  have  so 
ruled  my  life  that,  when  death  came,  I  might  face  it 
without  fear,"  it  was  in  no  spirit  of  pride  or  of  self- 
confidence.  "  To  think  the  truth  concerning  oneself," 
was  John  Wesley's  definition  of  '^  humility."  Caleb 
did  not  boast  when,  as  he  asked  of  Joshua  the  inhe- 
ritance which  Moses  had  promised  him  five-and-forty 
years  before,  he  said  of  himself,  "I  wholly  followed 
the  Lord  my  God;"  he  only  thought  and  spoke  "  the 
truth"  of  himself.  And  so  was  it  with  the  Christian 
warrior  when  about  to 

"  Rest  from  the  twofold  strife — 
The  hattle-field  of  India  and  the  battle-field  of  life." 

He  had  "  wholly  followed  the  Lord."  He  had  so 
ruled  his  life,  amidst  all  its  temptations,  and  in  refe- 

*  1  John  iv.  17. 


SOLITUDE    OF   THE    SOUL.  389 

rence  to  all  its  duties,  tliat  when  death  came  he  might 
die  without  fear.  It  was  by  the  grace  of  Christ  his 
Saviour  he  had  done  so;  and  the  grace  which  had 
sanctified  his  life  cheered  his  death.  "  I  am  not  in 
the  least  afraid.     To  die  is  gain." 

But  it  is  instructive  to  observe  how  seldom  even 
the  holiest  Christians  refer  in  their  dying  hours  to 
the  work  of  the  Spirit  of  God  in  them,  and  how  em- 
phatic are  their  references  to  the  work  of  Christ  for 
them.  They  know  that  any  dependence  on  the  work 
of  Christ  which  is  unaccompanied  with  the  relinquish- 
ment of  sin,  and  with  newness  of  life,  is  vain.  But 
they  are  so  deeply  conscious  of  the  imperfections 
which  cleave  even  to  their  new  life  that  they  turn 
away  from  the  contemplation  of  it  to  the  contempla- 
tion of  the  perfect  work  of  the  Saviour,  and  "  cling" 
to  it  with  the  tenacity  with  which  they  clung  to  it 
when  their  first  convictions  of  sin  drove  them  to  him 
for  refuge.  This  explains  how  those  who  find  Christ 
only  on  a  death-bed  often  die  as  happily  as  those  who 
have  served  him  for  many  years.  They  are  both 
resting  on  the  same  foundation,  and  the  immediate 
source  of  peace  and  joy  to  both  is  the  same — the  all- 
sufiiciency  of  the  atoning  sacrifice.  The  new-born 
convert  and  the  experienced  Christian  exult  alike  in 
Him  who  is  their  righteousness  and  strength,  and 
through  his  mercy  receive  an  abundant  entrance  into 
his  kingdom.  What  difference  there  may  be  between 
them  there,  the  fruit  of  their  diff'erence  in  discipline 
and  progress  on  earth,  it  is  not  given  to  mortals  to 
know.     "The  day  will  declare  it." 


33* 


390  CONFLICT    WITH  DEATH. 

In  following  the  history  of  the  Christian's  work 
and  conflict,  we  have  exhibited  the  Lord  Jesus  as  his 
exemplar  j  not  neglecting,  at  the  same  time,  to  remind 
ourselves  and  our  readers  of  other  relations  in  which 
he  stands  to  us.  And  these  other  relations  are  not 
secondary,  but  primary.  We  shall  not  be  able  to 
walk  in  his  steps  as  a  man,  if  we  do  not  confide  in  his 
sacrifice  as  the  Mediator  between  God  and  men.  We 
shall  not  work  as  he  worked,  or  fight  as  he  fought,  if 
we  do  not  draw  from  him,  the  Ever-living,  the  life  that 
inspires  and  the  strength  that  performs. 

True  as  it  is  that  no  man  liveth  to  himself,  and  that 
no  man  dieth  to  himself,  it  is  equally  true  that  every 
man  both  lives  and  dies  Z>y  himself, — the  subject  of  an 
experience  and  the  bearer  of  a  responsibility  which  no 
other  shares.  The  soul  is  most  solitary  in  its  bitterest 
sorrows  and  sweetest  joys,  in  its  hardest  toils  and 
severest  conflicts.  Its  solitude  is  not  lost  in  the  most 
completely  mingled  society.  Were  we  in  a  position 
to  gaze  downwards  on  a  forest  in  the  midst  of  a  storm, 
we  should  see  only  an  undistinguishable  mass  of  green 
leaf  and  waving  branch.  But  every  tree,  every  branch, 
every  leaf,  has  still  its  separate  existence,  and  will 
live  or  die  by  itself.  If  we  look  at  a  large  assembly  in 
a  moment  of  fervid  excitement,  they  are  of  one  judg- 
ment, they  have  one  aim;  one  strong  passion  has 
brought  them  into  one  place ;  and  now  they  are 
listening  to  words  which  burn  into  their  inmost  souls, 
and  fuse  them  into  one  mass  of  living,  boiling  senti- 
ment. The  atmosphere  they  breathe  is  not  more  one 
than  seems  to  be  the  soul  that  actuates  them.  But 
every  member  of  this  mass  stands  alone  ;  his  soul  is 
in  most  perfect  solitude  when  in  most  perfect  society 
— a    solitude    of    responsibility   and    destiny,    which 


CHRIST    WITH    MY    SPIRIT.  391 

nothing   can   impair,  and   on   which   nothing  can   in- 
trude. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  solemn  facts  of  our  present 
existence.  Feeble  and  frail  as  we  are,  every  man  is 
held  personally  answerable  for  the  deeds  done  in  the 
body,  and  is  thus  raised  to  an  awful  relationship  to 
God.  And,  personally  responsible,  he  passes  in  per- 
sonal solitude  through  the  most  important  conditions 
and  crises  of  his  life.  In  the  throes  of  the  second 
birth,  in  after-conflict  with  the  world,  the  devil,  and 
the  flesh,  in  spiritual  joy  and  in  spiritual  sorrow,  in 
the  hour  of  death  and  in  the  hour  of  judgment,  lie  is 
inwardly  alone. 

Especially  is  this  solitude  felt  to  be  real  in  the 
hour  of  the  last  mortal  strife.  Crowds  may  surround 
us  and  urge  their  friendly  help  ;  but  our  spirits  still 
remain  alone.  Parent  and  child,  husband  and  wife, 
brother  and  sister,  friend  and  friend,  in  vain  they 
cling  to  each  other;  each  will  die  alone  and  be  judged 
alone. 

One  might  dwell  on  this  theme  till  he  has  covered 
his  spirit  with  a  pall  of  blackness  and  despair.  I  look 
around  this  wide  universe  and  see  beings  and  things 
innumerable,  the  friendly  and  the  hostile,  but  yet  I 
am  alone,  and  in  my  aloneness  must  I  sufi'er  and  enjoy, 
and  do  and  pass  through,  all  that  is  most  momentous 
and  awful  on  this  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  grave. 
The  thought  is  more  than  I  can  bear,  and  I  feel 
myself  sinking  in  deep  waters,  till  through  the  dark 
cloud  above  me  I  hear  a  voice  saying,  "  /  am  loith 
tlicey  Like  John  in  the  Apocalypse,  I  turn  to  see 
the  voice  that  speaketh,  and  lo !  it  is  His  who 
assumed  my  nature  that  he  might  have  a  brother's 
sympathy  with   my  spirit ;  his   who   was  tempted  of 


392  CONFLICT    WITH    DEATH. 

the  devil  in  the  wilderness,  and  overcame  and  sinned 
not ;  his  who  wept  at  the  grave  of  Lazarus  and 
said,  "  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life  3'^  his  who 
died  for  my  sins  on  Calvary  to  make  my  peace  with 
God  ;  his  who,  now  ascended  on  high,  liveth  for  ever- 
more, and  hath  the  keys  of  death  and  of  the  invisible 
world.  And  when  I  recognize  his  glorious  form 
breathing  love,  and  invested  with  power,  I  gather 
boldness  to  say,  "  Into  thine  hands  I  commend  my 
spirit;  for  thou  hast  redeemed  me."  And  now  in  all 
my  conscious  solitude  let  the  Lord  Jesus  be  with  my 
spirit,  and  I  need  no  companionship,  no  help  besides. 
I  will  fight  the  good  fight  of  faith,  he  being  with  my 
spirit.  I  will  overcome  the  world,  the  devil,  and  the 
flesh,  he  being  with  my  spirit.  I  will  approach  the 
throne  with  unfaltering  footstep,  he  being  with  my 
spirit.  And  the  chiefest  joy  of  eternity  will  be  that 
he  whom  I  have  followed  ''  in  the  regeneration,'' 
whose  mercy  has  pardoned,  whose  grace  has  sanc- 
tified, whose  friendship  has  cheered,  whose  example 
has  guided,  through  earthly  toil  and  conflict,  is  still 

WITH  MY  spirit. 

"  The  heir  of  heaven,  henceforth  I  fear  not  death; 
In  Christ  I  live  ;  in  Christ  I  draw  the  breath 
Of  the  true  life.     Let,  then,  earth,  sea,  and  sky, 
Make  war  against  me !     On  my  heart  I  show 
Their  mighty  Maker's  seal.    In  vain  they  try 
To  end  my  life  that  can  but  end  its  woe. 
Is  that  a  deathbed  where  a  Christian  lies? 
Yes,  but  not  his— 'tis  Death  himself  there  dies." 


INDEX. 

CHIEFLY    OF    NAMES, 


The  Lord  Jesus  Christ—  page 

The  only  perfect  man 12 

No  inward  sense  of  sin 13 

Comprehensiveness  and  harmony  of  character 14,  53 

Inferences  from  his  perfection 16 

Our  example 17 

Capable  of  progress 19 

Subject  to  temptation 20 

Example,  supernatural  and  natural 20 

Principles  of  his  life 31 

"  Little  things"  in  his  character 56 

A  man  of  prayer 77 

Ills  study  of  Scripture 77,  83 

His  observance  of  outward  ordinances 94 

Bible  pictures  of  his  childhood  and  youth 106 

Did  he  work  with  his  own  hands? 107 

A  day  in  his  life 150 

His  temptation  by  the  devil 188 

No  conflict  with  inward  sin 197 

As  a  sufferer 20,  321 

Manner  of  his  death 376 

Abraham — 

His  constitutional  peculiarities 50 

Corresponding  discipline 116 

Baruch — The  amanuensis  honoured 169 

Bible — As  a  means  of  improvement 84 

Bickersteth,  Rev.  E.— 

Christian  character 66 

Dying  hope 386 

Brainerd — 

His  high  aims __ 38 

Contrasted  with  Fletcher  of  Madeley „ 47 

Alternations  of  feeling 235 

Bunyan — 

Temptations  by  the  devil 190 

Conflict  with  sin 206 

Christian  and  Hopeful  in  despair „.. 259 

Conflict  with  doubt 302 

393 


394  INDEX. 

Chalmers —  pase 

His  study  of  the  Bible 88 

Conflict  with  sin 205 

Character,  Christian — 

Its  model , 17 

Comprehensiveness,  duty  of 56 

Little  things 57,  58 

Its  first  principle 58 

How  love  is  to  be  cultivated ~ 60 

Specific  means  of  spiritual  improvement «- 68 

Unselfishness 143 

Self-denial  strengthens , 210 

Covenants — Recommended  by  Doddridge 68 

Cowper,  William — Ilis  spiritual  history  and  suffering 244 

Daniel-^  Union  of  business  and  devotion 117 

Diaries — 

Pearce 75 

Foster 76 

Douglas,  James — 

On  the  Bible 89 

On  cases  like  Cowper's - 247 

Edwards,  Jonathan — His  resolutions 71 

Enoch — Not  an  ascetic 115 

Evans,  Rev.  J.  H.— His  doctrinal  difficulties 293 

Fenelon — His  views  of  Divine  love 35 

Fletcher,  of  Madeley — Contrasted  with  Brainerd 47 

Foster,  John — On  a  man's  writing  memoirs  of  himself. 76 

Gardiner,  Captain  Allen  F. — History  and  sufferings 266,  371 

Gardiner,  Colonel  James — His  study  of  the  Bible 86 

Gurney,  Joseph  John — His  "  Questiones  Nocturnae" 73 

Guyon,  Madame — 

Harmony  of  will  with  the  will  of  God 32 

Mystical  exaggerations 33,  38 

Her  sufferings 356 

Hall,  Robert— His  early  doubts 288 

Halyburton,  Professor — Conflict  with  doubt 305 

Hamilton,  Patrick — His  sufferings  and  martyrdom 353 

Havelock,  General — 

Ilis  study  of  the  Bible 85 

His  life  and  character 130 

His  doing  good 158 

Ilewitson — His  dying  hope 385 

Hezekiah — His  sick-bed  gloom 256 

Holy  Spirit — Necessary  to  Life  and  Progress 67 

Howe,  John — Harmony  of  character 43 

Human  Nature— Primitive,  Fallen,  Restored 11,  12 

Huntingdon,  Lady — Her  dying  hope 385 

Isaac — 

His  constitutional  peculiarities 50 

Corresponding  discipliau 116 


INDEX.  395 

Jacob —  PAGE 

His  constitutional  peculiarities » 51 

Correspondiug  discipline „.  116 

Job- 
Tried  by  Satan 192 

His  experience  in  aflBiction 269 

John  the  Baptist — How  far  ascetic - 112 

Martin,  Sarah — 

Her  study  of  the  Bible 87 

Her  labours 161 

Conflict  with  sin 205 

Martyn,  Henry — 

Harmony  of  character _ _- 45 

The  Sabbath 93 

More,  Hannah — Her  labours r. „ 151 

Moses — Harmony  of  character ~ ».    41 

J^ewton,  John — 

Remarks  on  covenants 70 

On  conflict  with  sin 209 

Parry,  Sir  Edward — 

His  labours 155 

His  dying  hope 386 

Paul- 
Harmony  of  character 42 

His  piety  athletic 28 

His  conflicts 183 

As  a  sufferer 337 

Pay  son,  Dr. — 

On  degrees  of  nearness  to  Christ 29 

Conflict  with  sin 202 

His  fasting 222 

Fluctuations  of  feeling „.  236 

Constant  aims 240 

Conflicts  with  doubt 303 

His  triumph  in  death 383 

Dying  hope 386 

Pearce,  Samuel — 

Christians  satellites  to  the  Sun  of  Righteousness 30 

On  diaries 75 

Conflict  with  sin 204 

Peter — Tried  by  Satan 193 

riiny — As  a  persecutor 352 

Prayer — 

The  Prayers  of  Christ 77 

"  "        ofWagner 91 

Intercessory  prayer 167 

Ditto  ofWagner 168 

Resolutions — 

Are  they  proper  ? 71 

Of  Jonathan  Edwards.. ► 71 


896  INDEX. 

Richmond,  Leo;h —  PAQB 

D.viughope 386 

Satan — 

Ancient  ideas  of. 185 

His  temptation  of  Christ 188 

Luther's  ideas  of. 189 

Are  his  temptations  distinguishable? 189 

Bunyan's  temptations 190 

Trial  of  Job 192 

Trial  of  Peter 193 

How  to  resist 195 

Simeon — 

Conflict  with  sin 204 

With  besetting  sins 218 

On  fasting .-. 222 

Union  of  humiliation  and  cheerfulness 227 

Fluctuations  of  feeling 237 

On  the  emotions 248 

Ilis  dying  hope 385 

Soldiers— True  piety  of. 126,  134 

Stephen — The  proto-martyr 335 

Teignmouth,  Lord — His  dying  hope 3S6 

Tertius — The  amanuensis  honoured 169 

Thomson,  James  A. — On  certain  forms  of  doubt 315 

Vanderkemp — His  labours 164 

Vaughan,  Robert  Alfred — His  conflicts  with  doubt 296 

Vicars,  Hedley — His  life  and  character 127 

Wagner,  George — His  habits  of  prayer 90,  168 

Ward,  Thomas— His  conflict  with  death 379 

Wardlaw,  Dr. — 

His  correspondence  with  Eev.  J.  11.  Evans 295 

Extracts  on  the  causes  of  despondency 266,  282,  285 

Wardlaw,  William — Dying  experience 377 

Wesley,  John — On  the  mystic  writers 93 

Wilberforce — Piety  and  the  world's  work 121 

Williams,  Richard — His  character  and  sufferings 370 

Women — How  they  may  work 146 

Worldly  work  and  care  a  discipline 134 


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